


Wilted Rose, Silver Thorns

by Moonlitdarksword



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fantastic Racism, Fictional Religion & Theology, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), Pre-Volume 4, Religion, Time Travel, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7966438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdarksword/pseuds/Moonlitdarksword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby Rose is not a young woman anymore, but it is never too late to receive a second chance. Torn from a future where she had given up on everything, Ruby relies on her long experiences, her incomplete memories and her faith to avert catastrophe, even if some things were always meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

** I **

**_Ruby Rose_ **

**_Cathedral of Shadows_ **

**_Maiden Triad_ **

The Summer Maiden was dead, and the streets of Vale were packed with the revelry of the joyous faithful.

The Huntress watched the coursing ocean of skin celebrating from the rooftop of an upper-class condominium complex, out of the watchful eye of the Guards. It was barely even noon (not that the Huntress could tell, for Vale had been in a constant state of overcast twilight for many years) yet great casks of ale and wine had been cracked open, causing men and women alike to dance and carouse, sing and laugh, or even fall to their knees and weep, saying prayers of gratitude to Maiden Triad and the Empress of Shadows. The Huntress passed no judgement on these people. Had her sister been alive to see this, it would have undoubtedly infuriated her beyond words, but Ruby Rose felt nothing but pity and weariness. Who could blame them? Maiden Triad had offered them food and protection, a vision of the world that made sense, and a chance to live a life free of fear. Was it really a surprise that she would use these things to control the masses when so many had grown up without them?

Such things were no longer her concern as she spotted what she was looking for. In a secluded street corner was a landed Bullhead, its presence isolated and its engine warm. It was not unguarded though. Ruby snorted at the Guards who milled about, obviously perturbed that they could not join the festivities. At this point, four men were less than nothing to her. She stepped to the edge of the roof and detached the bladed component of her weapon, activating her Semblance as she entered freefall. She kept out of their line of sight as she rocketed to the ground. Any worthy servant of Maiden Triad would recognise those petals, and she would rather hide herself until it was far too late. She landed flawlessly in an alley near the Bullhead, one hand touching the ground and the other detaching the serrated sickle blade of Crescent Rose. She got to her feet and turned the corner, strolling casually with her makeshift sword hidden behind her back. Four young men, one sitting in the landing ramp with a cigarette between his fingers, regarded the older woman approaching them, their eyes hidden by helmets inspired by the Atlesian Military.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ Ruby called, flourishing the sickle into a reverse grip by her hip. ‘Can I get a ride to the Cathedral?’ She saw the futility in asking long ago, and saw their minds work as they took in the sights they were trained to look out for: the hair, the blade, and the eyes. She saw them draw their conclusions, and they did exactly what she prayed they would do. They panicked.

‘Holy shit, it’s Rose!’ one of them cried as he tossed away his cigarette and raised his rifle. The others began to retreat to the Bullhead, firing blindly in her direction. She wouldn’t even give them the dignity of letting their bullets bounce off her Aura. Petals bloomed as she rushed forward, stepping onto the ramp in a heartbeat and lashing out at the throat of the smoker. She turned to the remaining three and let her Semblance do its work, bouncing between them and delivering a single strike to the chests of each one, her blade sliding through armoured vests, ribs and hearts with almost no resistance. She returned to the ramp as her first victim dropped to his knees, pawing in futility at his bubbling neck, gurgling his last. She paid him no mind as his body began to roll down to the concrete next to his comrades, who had fallen without a sound, leaving a scarlet trail behind. She wiped the sickle on the fabric of the co-pilot’s seat and re-holstered it as she sat down, keying in the start up sequence that was long familiar to her. The gently revving engine began to scream as the ramp went up. Ruby turned the ascending VTOL in the direction of the Cathedral, leaving the slaughter behind.

 

* * *

 

‘Four seconds,’ she mused, trying to distract herself from the hum of the engine. It was the closest thing on this vehicle to silence. Silence invited thought, and she didn’t want to think. She might start believing this was a bad idea.

‘Took me four seconds to kill four non-Aura-users,’ she reported to herself, chuckling bitterly. ‘I must be getting older if it took me that long.’

Thinking about her age forced her to pay attention to her reflection in the windscreen. The first thing she noted was her hair. Black at the roots and blood red at the tips, it went down to her shoulder blades and was decorated with streaks of grey around the temples. Her skin was sallow and worn, her face creasing at the eyes and lips from a long life of sleepless nights and precious few smiles. Her wrinkles were the least of her concern as she saw the less natural and more noticeable of her facial features: a long white scar that was drawn horizontally from the bridge of her nose to her inner earlobe, just beneath her left eye. She carried that scar for most of her life, inflicted in her first true encounter with Maiden Triad, back when she called herself Cinder Fall.

She knew that her plain red travelling dress, dark sheer tights, black combat boots and sanguine hooded cape hid many more scars, and every single one spoke of a near miss. Underneath her burgundy riding gloves, three fingers on her left hand were cybernetic replacements, the originals lost to the jaws of an Alpha Beowolf. She bore three parallel scars beneath her right breast, from the talons of a Griffon. She carried the ghost of a gash across the left side of her collarbone from roughly ten years ago, when she made the near fatal mistake of underestimating the Maidensbane. She had some rough skin on the back of her right thigh from when she couldn’t get far enough away from an incendiary device whilst her Aura was down. She carried a thin, crescent-shaped scar on her lower abdomen from a Caesarean—

 _Stop right there_ , she ordered herself. _You start thinking about it, and it’s all over._ No matter how firmly she told herself that, there was no stopping her from thinking about it. Wasn’t that the reason she was here? Was it really possible to forget the best years of her life, and ignore the reason why she spent her forty-fifth birthday in mourning? Even so, the memories made her more determined than ever to storm the Cathedral of Shadows and personally challenge Maiden Triad herself.

After all, that was a popular method of suicide.

 

* * *

 

The Cathedral of Shadows was the single most opulently crafted building on the continent, and it stood as a symbol of the power of the Dark See. Obsidian spires shot up from the ground and arced over the main complex like the ribs of some ancient titanic beast. The main house was a cube measuring fifty metres in every dimension, finished with grey sandstone and windowed with dark purple stained glass, where Triad personally preached to the most faithful (and coincidentally, the richest and most influential) members of her vast flock. The cathedral complex stood at the foot of a vast ruined column that towered over the magnificent church, the last remaining structure of what had once been Beacon Academy.

Of course it was still standing. It was holy ground, after all. The creature that the Dark See dubbed Mother Drake was still petrified in a screech of incomprehension as it clung to the grave of one the greatest fighters of her generation, trapped in a chrysalis of stone that remained undisturbed for nearly thirty years. The broken plateau was a roost for Griffons and Nevermores under the dragon’s blind gaze. It seemed that only Ruby and her few remaining friends felt any sort of apprehension in situations such as this. Everyone knew that the Grimm were the divine instruments of the Empress’ will on Remnant, and only a heretic would feel otherwise. But for Ruby, “heretic” was a title she bore with pride.

That pride vanished as the Bullhead lurched in the air, nearly knocking Ruby out of her seat as the chassis shook and red lights flared and sirens screamed. Sparks hissed from the cracks between keys, and black smoke began to creep into the cockpit from the grille on the floor.

‘Of course they wouldn’t make it this easy,’ she snarled, slamming the emergency exit button. She could feel the VTOL lose altitude as the ramp descended at a pace that she felt a snail could shame. Hardened instincts told her that the second anti-air volley was not far off. When the shaft of low light was wide enough, she drew the heavier ranged component of her weapon and activated her Semblance, rushing through the gap with a flurry of petals into the abyss. Only a second later, the Bullhead blossomed into a massive fireball as it was struck with a second missile.

Sniper’s eyes scanned a ground that grew ever closer, and Ruby found her targets on a courtyard paved with a mosaic fresco of four flames (amber, white, green and maroon) swirling like paint down the drain into a grasping hand. Five troopers, each carrying a heavy anti-air bazooka, one still smoking. She smirked, and then front-flipped as she brought the compact heavy rifle forward, extending the scope as she sought out a leader. She pulled the trigger, letting the enormous recoil slow her descent considerably, and watched through the scope as the man in the shiniest armour was turned into a red cloud form the chest up. One of his fellows fired another missile in panic more than anything, and Ruby responded by firing to the side, propelling her long past his trajectory. She saw a window of opportunity that existed for less than half a heartbeat, and thanks to naturally fast reflexes, almost preternatural senses and many years of experience, she took it. In the midst of her spin, she fired down in a moment where she was both blind and all-seeing. The large calibre bullet rocketed down towards the earth, and just as another soldier raised his launcher, it descending right into the upright barrel. The explosion was large enough to obscure the whole fresco with crimson fire and Dust fumes. The shockwave and two more shots were enough to safely slow her descent.

She landed heavily on the still broiling courtyard, eyes watering from the smog. She waded her way towards the Cathedral steps, the stench of fire and spent Dust thankfully covering that of charred meat. Aside from the roar of the flames, her purposeful stride was made in silence as she navigated down the cobbled path, the church growing ever larger as she approached. She didn’t expect much more resistance. They were in the middle of a service right now, and oftentimes, Triad herself was more than enough security.

She felt a fizzle along the surface of her Aura, and jumped back before she heard a slight whistle and saw a bullet lodge itself in the ground in front of her, making a spiderweb of cracks in the cement.

‘Of course,’ Ruby sighed. ‘It wouldn’t be a siege on the Cathedral of Shadows without a fight with at least one of you.’

Two figures landed heavily from a great leap from the buttresses, and Ruby could feel the powerful Aura of a third approaching from behind. They were female, dressed in white hooded robes that hung loose around their torsos and clung snugly to the legs and arms. Their faces were hidden behind ivory masks, with thin slits for eyes and decorated with the symbol of the Dark See, which Triad carried on her flesh long before it even existed. One carried a long staff with wicked blades at both ends, and the other lumbered underneath some form of heavy mallet.

‘Maidensbane,’ Ruby hissed, risking an eye towards the one behind her as she reached for both her weapons. Young women personally selected by Maiden Triad, they were the holy inquisitors of the Dark See, trained only for one purpose, which was recently made obsolete. One of them was in there now, getting her very soul sucked away by Triad. It was the highest honour among their calling.

Acting quickly, Ruby slammed the sword and the gun together, and took a moment to watch the beauty unfold. The pommel sank into the recess built near the magazine, and the compact heavy rifle began to unfurl. Oiled joints unwound, the telescopic barrel extended, and the sickle blade was carried along its length until it found its place at right-angle from the very tip, turning the blade and rifle into a scythe. There was no chance in hell that they didn’t know who she was. The knowledge of her reputation combined with the sight of Crescent Rose in her full majesty would be enough to send most fleeing in terror, but “most” did not describe the Maidensbane. Maiden Triad owned their hearts and souls. They feared nothing.

The one behind her moved first. She leaped towards her, swinging one of a pair of longswords at her neck. Ruby parried the blow, noting the pistol embedded in the hilt. Mecha-shift weapons were rare amongst the Maidensbane, and those that used it displayed no subtlety, no _artistry_ in their designs. Crescent Rose was among the last of her like, dancing her graceful tango as Ruby spun the scythe around her body, deflecting the cold, calculated strikes of the double-ended glaive. Riposting with enough force to make the Maidensbane stumble, Ruby hopped backwards and let the mallet pulverise the cobblestones where she stood before. She fired a few warning shots to push them back, knowing the spearwoman was fast enough to deflect the heavy bullets, and concentrated on the swordswoman. She used her longer reach to press the advantage, striking at vital points with powerful swings. The Maidensbane could barely keep up, expending more and more of her Aura to bat away the fast sickle. When Ruby was satisfied that she had pushed her back far enough, she flicked a switch that flicked that blade into a perpendicular point, and swung it at her neck. The Maidensbane brought up both swords to block, and pulled the triggers on the hilts to send to armour-piercing bullets flying through the space Ruby’s head should have been. The scythe had sped away with her wielder, making the swordswoman stumble as she pushed against the absent opposing force. The Huntress reined in her weapon in an artful dance of rose petals, and before the Maidensbane could regain her balance, she swung her dance partner in a controlled, lightning-fast arc, shattering her foe’s Aura and severing her neckbone.

‘Heretic!’ the hammer-wielder roared as the first Maidensbane slumped to the floor in silence, sliding a level on the hilt that Ruby couldn’t see before. Handles jutted out of the heavy head of the mallet, and the inquisitor adjusted her grip to them as the long handle spun and separated into three long barrels. A simple enough shift, Ruby thought, but she shut down any deeper thought as the other one rushed in.

It soon became apparent to Ruby that they were fighting a war of attrition. The glaive-wielder would jump into Ruby’s range and they would exchange a series of fierce blows, nothing but spasmodic blurs to the untrained eye, before the minigun opened fire. The spray of heavy ammunition would shatter the ground at their feet, forcing Ruby to jump back and giving the lancer the opportunity to follow. Ruby noticed the cycle the fourth time it propagated, and the conclusion of the third had already made two bullet holes in her cape. She couldn’t allow herself to slow down now. She needed that energy for Triad.

Turning on her heel, she rapidly accelerated towards the gunner. Reacting instantaneously, she shifted the weapon back into hammer-form and swung at the blur of roses as if it were a baseball. Ruby was counting on her being smart enough to do that. After smoothly bending her trajectory so that she went under the swing, she was now wide open. Before she could recover from the swing, Ruby loosed a shot into her lower back, launching the Maidensbane off her feet as her Aura struggled to absorb the blow. The glaive-wielder wasted no time in leaping past her comrade and diving at Ruby point-first. She knocked the blow aside with a twirl, making sure that the head of her scythe was pointing to the floor as she pulled the trigger. The momentum and her Semblance let her soar over the head of the Maidensbane, fluidly and quickly in to the path of the still flying hammer wielder. She raised Crescent Rose to her chest, and her Aura was not strong enough to stop the bullet that smashed through her sternum and pierced her heart, bursting from her back in a spray of blood and bone.

The last one ignored her falling comrade and the stains on her clothes as she closed the distance, howling in an approximation of rage as if she knew what it was but had long forgotten how it felt. She twirled her spear in a wide arc of flurrying, twisting arcs, leaving not an inch of safe space beneath the whirling blades. To an ordinary person, the cyclone of blades that buried the cloaked the Maidensbane in a bubble of blurring slashes was a vicinity of certain bloody death, but Ruby was not in the least intimidated. She adjusted the angle of both her stance and the sickle blade with fluid efficiency. Her eyes were as fast as her body, allowing her to perceive the frenzied slices one at a time, and see the assault for what it was. It was sloppy, unfocused. As much as the Maidensbane claimed to be above petty fetters like emotion, Ruby could see the tints in her fading Aura; the fear, grief and hatred that no one could truly be above.

Ruby finished the fight as soon as she was able. She brought the scythe down and back, and when her opponent opted for a horizontal chop as she predicted, she pulled the trigger and let the blade the rip upwards, tearing the glaive out of her hands and high into the air. Already emotionally compromised, despite being trained never to show it, the Maidensbane made the fatal mistake of looking up. Ruby was already using her Semblance, already far past her, and already had the crescent blade hooked around her throat. Before she ever had time to comprehend it, Ruby pulled the trigger. The immense recoil made Crescent Rose shear through Aura, muscle and bone like wet paper, leaving a crescent-shaped spatter of blood as she swung the haft forward. Her assailant’s head, hood and mask intact, fell to the ground with a damp thud a moment later, followed shortly by the clang of her glaive.

Ruby sighed as she disassembled her weapon, blade detaching as the rifle folded into a more compact form. Despite the fact that, by all accounts, she was a veritable killing machine, it was never easy for her to take sentient lives. Just like she was, these young women fought for a cause they believed in, even if it was based on Triad’s lies. She sometimes wondered what exactly made her own cause any truer, if at all. She pushed the thought aside, having decades ago decided that all she could do was pray for their salvation as well as her own, and beg the Gods for the forgiveness of all the men and women she had ever known, those she had killed and those she had failed to save.

She stopped just before the high oak door, sucking in a narrow breath as she pushed into it. If she was destined for damnation, then there was someone she was going to drag with her.

 

* * *

 

The Cathedral was silent save for the rumbling creak of the heavy doors.

The interior was mostly empty space, and much of the air over the pews was dimly lit with candles that hung from long chains that started from the darkness of the almost impossibly high ceiling, filling the nave with the cloying scent of incense, coming mostly from a great cast iron chandelier that glowed mutely with a hundred scented candles. Looking up, the space was dominated by the enormous stained glass windows, filtering the sunlight into an array of violet rays as they depicted the grotesquely beautiful Empress of Shadows in all her splendour. The image of Triad’s heathen goddess, a figure of black and white with unnaturally pale skin, was bordered with representations of some of Triad’s greatest accomplishments, and Ruby’s greatest failures: the Fall of Ozpin, the pacification of the Huntsmen, and most importantly, as shown by almost the entire bottom half being consumed with orange flames, armoured soldiers and thrashing Grimm, the Fourth Crusade.

Two thousand heads turned towards the entrance as she stepped onto the nave, her boots making thudding echoes as she walked slowly down the chequered rhombi of black and monochrome marble. The worshippers, dressed in their most elegant finery, balked at her in disbelief, bewilderment, and in some, naked terror. She didn’t blame them; Triad couldn’t lie all the time. The shadowed aisles were home to dozens of Maidensbane, all of whom had drawn their weapons as soon as they laid eyes on her. Ruby kept her eyes on only two things, both of which were placed above the congregation on the apse: a dead Maidensbane in a crumpled heap, and the women standing over her.

 ‘Ruby Rose,’ greeted Maiden Triad. Her face was lined and weathered, her tumbling silky hair had long since turned white, and her svelte form was draped in the black robes denoting her position as the See’s matriarch. She looked to be an almost ordinary middle-aged woman, but her immediate presence was veiled in a throbbing purple Aura, and the air in the Cathedral felt heavy with her raw power. ‘You’re a little late.’

‘I’d say I’m right on time,’ Ruby responded, still walking without heed to the enormous amount of ammunition ready to fire in her direction. ‘All four down. Took you long enough.’

‘No thanks to you,’ she riposted, holding up a hand to signal the Maidensbane to hold fire. ‘But yes, this is the day of my finest success. I am Triad no longer. I am whole.’

‘Looks like you’ll have to get the PR team together to come up with a new name,’ Ruby chuckled. ‘Maybe Maiden Quattro? All-Maiden? Four Cheese Pizza?’ She narrowed her eyes, grinning viciously. ‘Or maybe I should just call you Cinder.’

‘Call me what you like, it makes no difference,’ Cinder agreed. She stepped delicately around the corpse, bare feet peeking from the hem of her dark robe, and began to descend down the ambulatory stairs. ‘Don’t you realise you’re the guest of honour here? Ruby Rose, the woman with many names. The Silver Spectre. The Rose Petal Reaper. The Butcher of New Menagerie. The Crimson Widow.’

‘I have you to thank for that last one,’ Ruby hissed, stepping more forcefully down the aisle. ‘Despite all my efforts, a part of me always knew this day would come.’

‘So did I, and I welcomed it,’ said Cinder. She gesticulated slowly and widely as stepped onto the carpeted transept, as if the interruption was another part of her sermon. ‘I hope you didn’t tire yourself out on the token resistance I had set up outside.’

‘Interesting choice of words,’ Ruby noted, finally stepping onto the transept, now only five metres or so from the woman whose presence dictated the direction of her life. ‘It almost sounds like you wanted me to be here.’

‘You catch on quickly, Rose,’ Cinder congratulated her. Ruby considered the other woman for a moment. She found it funny how easily she thought of her as “Cinder,” despite knowing her as “Maiden Triad” for so many years. She surmised that it was precisely because it was the first name she knew her by.

There was a sudden shift in the air. Ruby could feel an invisible force press onto every inch of her skin, and heard a grumbling ripple through the congregation as the worshippers vocalised their increasing discomfort, along with an echo inside her ears like seashells were cupped over them. Cinder let Ruby feel the sheer power of her Aura for a moment before she continued.

‘I wanted you to see me at the moment of my greatest triumph. I wanted you to see for a fact that all your years of fighting, resisting, hiding and killing have been for nothing. That all the lives you have taken and sacrificed have been wasted. I wanted you to see just how powerless you are. With the power of Four Maidens coursing through me, I will reshape this world according to the will of the Empress, and neither you nor your false gods can stop me!’

‘Say what you will about my Gods,’ Ruby said, tightening her muscles as she gripped Crescent Rose’s blade, ‘but they well reward those who try.’

She drew her sickle-sword, and heard the choir of a hundred rifles, dozens of swords and more than a few activating beeps of explosive weapons. She almost predicted the additional weight on her shoulders, watching as common soldiers and even Maidensbane cowered under the intense Aura.

‘No one must interfere!’ Cinder thundered, summoning her black crystal scimitars with a flick of both wrists. ‘This a lesson I alone must teach. I will allow _no one_ to take this from me!’

The Dark See’s warriors obeyed without question, and the Maidensbane busied themselves with the noisy task of evacuating the worshippers. Cinder and Ruby ignored the terrified human river rushing out of the door, focusing entirely on one another.

‘You astound me, Ruby Rose,’ Cinder admitted, arching her back gracefully as she settled into her natural combat stance, with one sword low and forward and the other high and behind. ‘Why come knocking on my door when you have nothing left to fight for?’

‘It isn’t that I’ve got nothing to fight for,’ Ruby answered, crouching low and holding her blade in a defensive reverse-grip. ‘It’s that I have nothing left to lose.’

 

The silence was almost as oppressive as Cinder’s power. Neither one exchanged words for moments that felt like weeks. Building up her Aura and tensing her muscles into powerful coils, Ruby knew that Cinder could feel the weight as well. Decades of stalemate and legions of lost souls resulted in them being here today. They didn’t speak, but they could easily agree that they were tied together by incorporeal bonds of fate. They both knew in their hearts they would eventually come to blows one last time. They were destined to.

At once, the conflict began. They rushed each other in a blink, and the walls shook as they began swinging blades at full intensity. Ruby could count five strikes exchanged between each heartbeat, their chiming clashes rattling the stained glass as they threw frenzied slashes that could carve stone like wet clay. Even with her Semblance accelerating both her reflexes and her sword hand, it took all her stamina and all her concentration to withstand Cinder’s Maidenhood-enhanced strength and speed. A practiced Aura-user could push their body to feats of athleticism far beyond what it was usually capable of, but with the power of Four Maidens on her side, Cinder’s physical prowess was simply inhuman. These furious attacks were just Cinder dipping leisurely into her endless stamina and godlike Aura reserves. Ruby knew she would lose eventually if they continued like this, and tried her best to feel for an opportunity despite the relentless assault.

They paced around each other in a slow, intimately close circle, eyes transfixed on one another. Their arms and blades were mad storms of untraceable movement, each collision in the myriad per moment making a shockwave that could bowl a man off his feet. Burning rose petals orbited them lazily like asteroids around two colliding planets. By chance, a petal conjured from one of Ruby’s endless parries floated up and towards her eye. The coincidental blossom sparked an idea, a chance.

Ruby spun on her heel as she batted aside a deadly cross slash, segueing it into a pirouette that fully extended her right arm, letting the sword hit Cinder three times with its deadly spin. At the same time, she hopped back on that one foot, jumping with a crescent slash that sent a torrent of the petals flurrying around Cinder, completely obscuring her form. She landed on her toe, pulling out her cannon and firing into the roof. The bullet severed the chain that supported the chandelier, and it fell.

The falling chandelier hit its mark with a bone-rattling crash, but Ruby was under no illusions that it would work. The meteoric hulk of iron, forged into five tiers of webby supporting structures, warped and bent around Cinder’s body as it landed mightily on her outstretched palms, spilling the candles onto the transept like loaves of bread from a spilled tray.

‘Now, now, Mrs. Rose,’ Cinder sighed, clicking her tongue like a disappointed schoolteacher, almost oblivious to the weight above her head. Her sinewy arms were raised perfectly straight, as if she had caught heavier balloons. ‘What in the world were you hoping to accomplish?’

‘I’m not entirely sure,’ Ruby confessed, making a very deliberate gesture out of raising her compact rifle. ‘Maybe I just wanted to annoy you.’

On that note, Ruby pulled the trigger, hitting Cinder right between the eyes. At this range, her custom-made heavy shells rocketing out of the barrel at four times the speed of sound could concuss or kill even the most defensively orientated Aura-users. The impact made Cinder flinch, lose balance, and crumple beneath the weight of the chandelier with an echoing impact that kicked dust into the air.

Only a moment later, it was apparent that Ruby had succeeded in her stated goal. The chandelier creaked as Cinder rose to her feet. She hoisted the iron wreck above her head with little effort, her mouth curling in an unpleasant snarl as her narrowed eyes spilled with orange flame. Ruby fired again as she began to step away, but Cinder ignored the bullet that struck her forehead as she unleashed a bestial howl and hurled the enormous decoration like a plastic deckchair. Ruby sped over to rows of pews on her left and watched the chandelier plough through wooden benches and marble flooring with less than half a second to spare, popping off more shots as she went.

The bullets bounced away from her target as if Cinder had steel skin. Snarling furiously, Cinder’s eyes puffed with a burst of maroon fire as her Aura burned. Ruby used her Semblance to dive out of the way as Cinder threw her arms forward. She jumped onto the uppermost point of the chandelier in its crater and watched as a sea of flame washed over two dozen rows of pews, the tinder turning quickly to ash beneath the heat of Summer. With another grunt of effort, green waves of energy radiated from Cinder’s skin as she threw her hand upwards in a grasping gesture. Ruby heard a loud metallic groan before her perch began to shake beneath her, hopping down to a lower tier before she felt herself moving upwards. She knew the power of the Spring Maiden was at work before she saw the roots sprouting from beneath the rubble, grasping the chandelier and hoisting it effortlessly into the air. From the mass of branches and vines that grasped the iron hulk, brambles sprang upwards towards Ruby’s position like pouncing snakes, as fast as bullets. Not willing to see if they wanted to restrain her or simply rip her to pieces, Ruby smashed the first few aside with her sword before slamming the pommel into its slot in the cannon, switching to scythe form to knock away the serpentine attacks with a deadly spin.

Ruby heard metal groan before she gave in to the impulse to jump. She leaped into freefall just in time to see the tower of bark suddenly branch off into four different directions, taking great pieces of the chandelier with it. Cinder floated through the gap where the branches split, shimmering in white as two enormous glaciers followed through like obedient hounds. Ruby shot a round at the floor to slow her descent, and focused. It seemed that Cinder was willing to raise the stakes if she was using Maiden magic, even if it wasn’t to her fullest extent. Ruby closed her eyes and reached in as she landed lightly on the smooth ground. If Cinder was raising the bet, she was more than happy to call.

When Ruby opened her eyes, heavenly light shone in her silver irises, and her body shimmered in wisps of argent energy. Snarling at the sight of it, Cinder threw her arms forward and the enormous blocks of ice rocketed towards her. Ruby pointed her sniper-scythe and fired twice. The gun produced two unusually luminescent muzzles flashes, and the frigid missiles shattered into clouds of cold mist and melting debris. A third shot, and Cinder was forced to concentrate her Aura this time. She caught the bullet in her hand, and the force that could not be absorbed by her Aura sent her soaring back into the window. Great cracks splintered the image of the Empress, and Cinder groaned as she pulled herself out of the crater of glass, floating imperiously above the apse.

‘Why resort to this, Ruby?’ Cinder hissed, setting herself ablaze with a clench of her fist. ‘We both know that you came here to die!’ She threw a vicious punch forward, and a thin jet of flame spouted out of her knuckles. It seared the makeshift tree in half, and Ruby leaped deftly out of the way as it left a molten line in the floor. She dashed past the falling branches as they crushed the few remaining seats, and jumped high into the air with the assistance of another shot. Cinder’s blades were in her hands with a snap of her fingers, and Ruby ascended to meet them with a razor edge that glowed muted white.

Cinder brought both her swords smashing down onto the haft of the scythe, knocking the Huntress to the ground. Ruby bounced once before using her Semblance to roll away, milliseconds before Cinder’s arrow sunk into the ground and exploded with the force of ten grenades. She got to her feet just as Cinder landed heavily, her swords glowing with flame. Even though she was a good two metres away, Cinder made a wide slash, and Ruby hopped away, feeling scalding heat irritate the sensitive scar tissue on her cheek. Ruby had seen it before. When her blades were on fire, Cinder could use heat convection as a weapon and cook her foes alive, with or without Aura.

Ruby hopped to and fro, giving Cinder a wide berth as she danced with three metre long blades of superheated air. Low strikes singed the rich velvet carpet and reignited the spilt candles, while high sweeps sliced banners in half, the bottoms of the heraldic decorations falling away from a line drawn in fire. Ruby kept well out of the range of the assault, loosing shot after shot as she split her concentration between Cinder’s movements and the arcs of infernal heat she could barely sense with her Aura. The bullets bounced off the whirling blades, and Cinder roared as she bent down and threw her arms in a powerful cross slash. Ruby dived to the left, avoiding the invisible lance as it left a trail of fire beneath its trajectory.

 _There!_ The Huntress blasted forward with her Semblance, and just like the unfortunate Maidensbane, she had the crook of her scythe hooked around Cinder’s neck. Seems the See matriarch was getting older. A younger Cinder would never have left an opening like that. Cinder realised what had happened just as Ruby grinned maliciously, and pulled the trigger. Crescent Rose barked and Cinder was wrenched upright with a gasp, her Aura holding steady despite the force of the blow. She pulled the trigger again, and Ruby heard Cinder gag, and she could see her orange Aura flicker and spark. Her eyes shone with a milky sheen, and she felt hidden power flow into the sickle blade. One more trigger pull would end it, she was sure of it.

 

Ruby never got to pull that trigger.

Cinder sucked in a deep breath, and unleashed a shrill shriek of unbridled fury. Steam rose from her glowing skin, and fire spilled from her eyes like the chimneys of a furnace. The earth shook, and the air throbbed with raw power. There was a flash, and the only things Ruby was aware of were heat and light.

 

Ruby regained consciousness on a scorched marble floor, the force of the impact having thrown her down the aisle. Her skin felt dry and cracked, and it was hard for her to open her eyes due to the pain. She clambered to her hands and knees, forcing her to realise that she was empty-handed. She forced herself to look up, and her analytical eyes scoured every inch of the cathedral. Her dread built up with every second she searched, like an icy wire was wrapped around her stomach. A singed receiver here, a warped pusher spring there, the shattered fragments of a magazine amongst the ruins of the pews, and the broken tip of a blade embedded in a support beam. The wire pulled, freezing her bowels. Cinder had succeeded in destroying her most faithful companion.

 _Cinder!_ Ruby spun in blind panic, flipping onto her back. The woman in question was stumbling towards her, her head hanging down in a hunched gait. Her robes billowed as if buffeted by wind, her hands crackling with ancient power. She looked the part of some dark angel, her buzzing Aura flaming beneath the shattered windows of the cathedral.

‘You really thought you could defeat me, didn’t you?’ Cinder remarked, her eyes blazing as she grinned cruelly. ‘I, the chosen of Salem? Who is that, you ask? I just thought you should die with the privilege of knowing the Empress’ true name.’ She allowed Ruby a second to process this information, before a longbow appeared in her hands with a snap of her fingers and a wisp of flame. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile faded away.

‘Thirty years, Ruby Rose,’ she snarled. Ruby began to back away, reaching for something clipped to her belt, and Cinder’s eyes flickered in dark delight. ‘Thirty years you’ve bit at my heels and slinked away like the snake you are! I’ve annihilated the armies of nations singlehanded. I’ve killed your friends, your family, and you just never fucking learn, do you?! It’s always going to end this way, because I’m stronger than you. Stronger than anyone! Now, you can die knowing just how weak you are!’

Ruby unhooked what she was looking for from her belt beneath her cloak, and sighed sadly. Though the woman who stood before her could incinerate her with a thought, Ruby thought she was almost pitiable. Her eyes flickered with a mad light that showed none of the intelligence that she hated and feared for so long. Those old golden eyes contained all the vainglory of a god in the making. Cinder Fall had been Maiden Triad for far too long. Her long-time foe had long since drowned in her own pride, leaving this raving husk in her place. A young Cinder, as she had observed before, would never have left that many openings during the fight. A young Cinder would never approach a foe in a way that left her so wide open, with so many holes in her Aura. And a young Cinder would never assume she had won just because an opponent had apparently been disarmed.

Mustering the last of her Aura, Ruby blitzed forward in a storm of roses, gripping the utility knife carried for non-combat purposes with both hands. Her will concentrated entirely on Cinder, the short blade hummed gently as it smashed through her Aura and slid between her ribs, drawing out a breathless gasp as her heart burst like a ripened grape.

‘Funny,’ Ruby hissed coldly, ‘I remember you once telling me that victory wouldn’t be found in strength.’

Cinder growled furiously, unable to retort over a mouthful of blood, and went limp over Ruby’s shoulder. Thirty years of war, fifteen of theocratic tyranny, ended with one thrust.

 

With Cinder’s last breath, something happened that had never occurred before and would likely never reiterate.

When a Maiden dies, her power seeks the next host in a burst of Aura. This was common knowledge long ago, and had recently re-entered the public sphere thanks to the Dark See.

Never before had Four Maidens left one host.

Never before had it occurred in the space of a Silver Eyed Warrior, whom the host had died cursing with all her hatred.

Five great powers, measure beyond imagining and nature beyond understanding, reacted against one another.

Being at its very heart, Ruby never saw the corona of many-coloured energy erupting from the heart of the Cathedral. She never saw the Cathedral of Shadows, Mother Drake, and everything and everyone on that plateau being washed away in an instant. She never saw the Dark See fall apart like a house of cards, or the years of war and anarchy that commenced as new organisations and new kingdoms rushed in to fill the vacuum.

 

What Ruby saw was something she had never expected to see again.

Sunlight in Vale, the sleek Atlesian airships soaring overhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another "Ruby goes back in time to stop everything from going to shit" fic. With my thirst for Volume 4 at an all-time high and my motivation to write my Persona/Madoka fic at an all-time low, I wound up squeezing this thing out of my orifices. 
> 
> After reading more over the summer (namely the Eisenhorn trilogy and the Ravenor trilogy by Dan Abnett, and The Last Wish by Andrjez Sapkowski), I felt like producing a darker, action-driven RWBY piece. The idea came from a pattern I had noticed in the various Remnant's Reclaimer copycats. These Future!Rubies were all twenty-somethings who fought a short but disastrous war, whose personalities were basically Ruby but tougher. I happened upon the idea of a Future!Ruby who was much older than the others, who had been killing longer than Present!Ruby had been alive, who feels an ever greater detachment from the present versions of RWBY/JNPR, and is a little more like Qrow than Present!Ruby (though still recognisably Ruby.) The final result will (hopefully) be a tragic, complex plot that showcases just how dangerous a Huntress who survives to middle age can be.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I finally happened upon the idea of using Ctrl+V directly onto the Rich Text Editor. Now my text doesn't look like anus. Yey.
> 
> If you enjoyed the read, leave a comment and a Kudos, and I'll see you guys later.


	2. II

** II **

**_Sunlight and Greenery_ **

**_A Plan to Meet New Friends_ **

**_Diverging Paths_ **

****

The only thing that connected this Vale to the other was light.

It was light that spilled forth from Cinder’s dying body, the light of pure magic that mortals could never comprehend. It was the kind of power whose extent and direction could never be predicted.

What Ruby was seeing now was also light, but of a kind she had grown unfamiliar with. The sun floated high in the heavens, basking the city in a high noon spotlight beneath a spotless sky. How long had it been since she saw a sky so clear?

She craned her neck, feeling a crick in the bone. She must have been sleeping looking up, that was the only explanation. Except she had been fighting Cinder only moments ago. Her body still felt exhausted from that. If that wasn’t proof of what she had just experienced, she couldn’t know what.

If she was confused looking up, then the view looking across and down was just as bizarre. Checking her immediate space first, she was sitting on a wooden bench, situated at the side of a gravel path. Across the path there were beds of flowers—asters, dahlias, daisies, cornflowers—arranged in rounded asymmetrical shapes like lakes in the perfectly trimmed emerald grasses. Children frolicked about in the shade of the wide oak trees, a couple rested on a bench near her, and no one about looked at the wondrous display around them. Not a care in the world.

Ruby recognised this place, and recognised the sheer impossibility of it. This was Vale Central Park, which she hazily remembered as the site of numerous family outings and more clearly as the scenic route on her way to resupply. This park should be just that. A memory. There was no green in the City of Vale anymore. This park should be a nest of Grimm beneath storm clouds that never dispersed. The denizens of the city mourned the decay of nature in Vale as Ruby did, though many recognised it as a necessary sacrifice for the Empress’ protection, and only the most hopelessly indoctrinated argued that it was a good thing. This unfamiliar sense of familiarity presented too many questions. How did she get here? How much time had passed? If this wasn’t Vale Central Park, then where was she?

Before she could begin to answer those questions, a middle-aged man shuffled along on the gravel path past her.

‘Atlas has sure brought a lot of airships this year,’ he mumbled to himself, his expression not too pleased. ‘Do they really need this many just for the Vytal Festival?’

His grumblings completely destroyed all of Ruby’s mental frameworks, her attempts to figure this out herself grinding to a halt. Did he just say “Vytal Festival?” It had been so long since she heard anyone even mention it. A holiday to celebrate peace was universally considered asinine in a time of constant war and deprivation. His mention of Atlas made her look up again, and Ruby almost slapped her head for not noticing it the first time. A fleet of ships marred the blue canvas with grey and white, sleek, strong and menacing as they sailed high above the city. The power conveyed by the size and visible firepower of those airships harkened back to a time when Atlas was at its most powerful. When Atlas even _existed._ Its cities were razed to ash by the armies of New Menagerie during the Fourth Crusade. It was during the last stand of the Atlesian Huntsmen that Ruby was widowed for a second time. The heartbreak did not go unanswered, and that was why the warriors of that conquering fledgling kingdom enthralled by the Dark See called her the Butcher.

Ruby shook the dark cobwebs from her mind. There were questions that needed answering, and they had best been answered yesterday. She immediately decided the best course of action was to ask someone who seemed to know where they were.

‘Excuse me,’ she called out to the man who had passed. As he turned, humming curiously, she considered the exact question to use. Though she could tell this must have been Vale Central Park, she still had no way of knowing how much time had passed. ‘Do you know what the date today is?’

‘Hmmm...Now let me think...’ the man considered, and after a moment his face lit up in recognition. ‘Oh, yes! It’s July 23rd, miss.’

She considered the date. Last she checked the date was in early April. Had she been comatose, or otherwise unaware of her surroundings, for over three months? Had the world recovered in that time? No. Preposterous. The amount of influence Triad held throughout Remnant would see riots in the streets for years after her demise. The lack of Grimm, the green, the airships; it all added up to a picture that made no sense. No matter how turbulent times may seem, things don’t change this much this fast. Unless...

‘This might seem weird,’ Ruby ventured to the man, ‘but could you tell me the year?’ If she was away for several years, then the changes she saw would be more understandable. That still didn’t explain where she was during all this time, or why she woke up on a park bench, but she knew she could figure that out later.

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow, but answered nonetheless. ‘Why, it’s July 23rd 999, of course.’

‘Impossible,’ Ruby gasped. It was ludicrous. Five minutes ago, the date was April 5th in the Fifteenth Year of Triad, or 1029, Era of Four Kingdoms. She wanted to laugh in his face, the very thought astounded her so much. Surely he wasn’t being serious. She was _fifteen_ back in 999! Was he seriously suggesting that she somehow went back in time? Laughable!

Except he wasn’t, Ruby quickly realised. The baffled look on his face was one of a man who gave an honest answer to an easy question, even if the nature of the question and the asker’s reaction confused him. Even if the man’s reaction was real, this situation of hers could not be, and must not. The entire concept was insane.

‘Gods...’ she murmured to herself, feeling the heat of the sunlight, smelling the nectar of the flowers, hearing the song of the birds. This was no dream, even though it had to be. To accept it as real would be a sign of insanity, surely?

‘Hey, you alright there?’ the man asked, arms weakly reaching out in a gesture of concern. ‘You just went white as a sheet.’

‘I’m fine...’ Ruby answered, dishonestly and breathlessly. She turned away from him, staring aghast at the unblemished skyline. Above the tall skyscrapers there was a high peak tapering off to a plateau, and on that distant plateau was a towering complex that belonged nowhere but in her most cherished memories. Staring aghast at the distant academy, she slowly, drunkenly stumbled in its direction.

The man looked worryingly in her direction, and soon shrugged and went on his way. What a strange woman, he thought. All sorts come to Vale this time of year.

 

She waded through the busy streets, letting ingrained memory influence her meandering path. She swayed uncertainly as she forced her way through the press of bodies, none of whom gave a second look to the strange woman in red.

This was Vale. It only really began to dawn on Ruby once she saw the unblemished storefronts that were packed onto the streets like tins of oily fish. On that street corner stood Lopez’s Engineering, a decent little technology store where parts where exchanged under the eye of a surly old man. There was a charming little restaurant called Barb’s B.Q., where her father always took her and Yang after a trip to the city. Recalling their faces made her eyes sting and her nose tingle, but the tears did not flow until saw the third small establishment. From Dust Till Dawn. The place where it all started.

It was too much. Stifling her sobs, she dashed in a random direction, the crowd parting to give her a wide berth, expressing oaths of surprise and annoyance. She didn’t care where she was going. She needed to get off the main streets. She needed to get away from the memories that no longer had a place in the world. She kept her head down, counting the pavement tiles as she sprinted. She ran until her legs began to burn and her lungs felt like she was breathing fire. She made her sprint trail off into a weak jog, just to avoid the temptation to activate her Semblance.

She finally stopped, leaning on a brick wall to catch her breath, and had a look around. She had somehow stumbled into one of the lower income districts, full of narrow and short apartment complexes with peeling paint, standing next to shops with half-lowered blinds and cramped stalls of green produce. She stood on the corner of an alley, next to a greasy dumpster that had “LOCK UP ALL FUNNUS” scrawled onto it in purple paint. This place was much less like the Vale she remembered, and that was good enough for now.

She forced in a deep breath, willing her heart to slow and her lungs to cool. No amount of breath could shake the all-consuming feeling that she was not supposed to be here. She was not supposed to be in a peaceful, bustling Vale. It was not supposed to be 999.

But those were the facts as she saw it, and all that remained were the conclusions that could be drawn from them. The first was that she was some sort of dream. She eliminated that possibility. She had been in catatonic states before. She had fallen under the spells of some of the most powerful illusionists in the world. None of them could replicate the earthy smell of the garbage, the cooling of her skin as a cloud covered the sun or the vividness of the colours of those flowers to such a degree. What she was seeing, what she was feeling, even the rough texture of the brick, was real to an extent.

That led her to the next possible conclusion, and Ruby began to walk as she considered it. She was dead. She and Cinder had killed one another, and the Gods saw fit to place her in this twisted purgatory, right at the end of her happy childhood. Ruby found the thought troubling, to say the least. The Gods never made an unreasoned decision. Why would they place her in a dream world that was so precious to her and so cruel at the same time? Did they demand atonement for all the people she had killed, all the people she had failed? Atonement required action, as Ruby had always believed. So what did they expect her to do? She hadn’t the first clue, and she decided she needed to figure it out as soon as possible, or else she would have to accept the third possibility.

That being that she was really in 999. The sheer power created by the reaction between the Maiden’s powers and the Silver Eyes did not kill her, but somehow sent her back in time. Where else could she have gone but here? She could have been teleported halfway to Vacuo, or into the cold of deep space, or she could have stayed on that plateau and saw humanity extinct for a hundred million years. This power had no cause to send her to any particular part of time and space, and that was the thought that terrified Ruby the most. That some things happened for no reason, that there was no destiny, no Gods, and that the universe was ruled by chance, as Weiss had believed. Or still does believe, since there was certainly another version of her in this world.

 

‘Gods, none of this makes sense,’ Ruby sighed, hitting a nearby wall in frustration. She trudged along the side of the dilapidated apartment, not knowing what direction to take. What was she supposed to do? Kill Cinder? She didn’t know where she even was, and if she ever knew the minutiae of her plans, she couldn’t remember what shape they had taken in this time. Warn Ozpin? Warn herself? Madness.

‘They’d think I’m Mom come back from the grave,’ she realised, chuckling bitterly. She was the right age for it, after all. A forty-something woman who looks just like Ruby Rose with a scar on her face? Give her a white cloak, and she’ll be Raven 2.0.

‘Excuse me,’ said a voice from behind, ‘but are you lost?’

Ruby spun round in a blink of an eye, her hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that was no longer there. Ruby gave the man before her a brief look over. He was old, his paunchy form obscured by a nondescript grey robe. His eyes twinkled with wisdom and contentment, and his shaved head was crowned by a pair of greying canine ears.

‘I am lost, Brother,’ Ruby answered deferentially, recognising him as a monk of some stature. Not believing her story herself, Ruby improvised a quick lie. ‘I’ve been travelling for a long time. I haven’t returned to the City in years, and I just have a lot on my mind. Do you know anywhere where I can collect my bearings?’

‘Well, you’ve come to the right place,’ he said, gesturing to a building across the street. He began to cross in a patient shuffle, and Ruby watched his back with a hand close to her hunting knife. As respectful as she was to men and women of the cloth, her enemies had taken on many guises, and there were no depths they would not sink to in order to lead her into a trap. Slowly, she began to follow, already calculating a plan for the worst.

The building he led her to was a single-storey redbrick complex. Though the paintwork on the wooden reinforcement beams could have used some waxing, the place was kept in good condition. A small lawn was placed next to a tightly curving disability ramp, adding a splash of green to the humble picture. Driven into the soil of the lawn was a small signboard, caked with posts and events. Ruby gave the largest, most prominent notice in the centre a quick skim read.

 

_EAST VALE PARISH COMMUNITY CENTRE_

_We welcome visitors from within the community and without, human or Faunus, from all_

_faiths (including none!)_

_Crèche, Chapel and Crisis Shelter._

_Chapel includes icons from multiple pantheons, including: Iron Saint Pantheon, Patch Forest Spirits, Frosted Valley Cult, Pre-Unification Mistrali faiths, and more (ask Brother Isbark for more information.)_

_AA meetings Thursdays @ 19:00_

She followed him through the wide double doors, and the interior was as cosy as it was clinical. The doors opened to a small reception area with a plain blue linoleum floor, with walls covered with notice boards crammed with leaflets, posters and children’s drawings, in the centre of which was a small ring of chairs, sitting next to a currently unstaffed reception desk. Though the room was empty save for those two, Ruby could hear faint murmuring down the corridors, indicating that the place was not completely abandoned.

‘Welcome to our humble establishment,’ the old monk said, making a sweeping gesture across the room. ‘We don’t have much, but our usual visitors don’t really ask for much. Our shelter, which basically amounts to a room with a couple spare beds, is down that way. The chapel, if you’re the type who requires spiritual services, is down the hall on your right.’

‘Thank you, Brother...?’

‘Isbark,’ the monk answered. ‘A humble servant of the Iron Saint.’

‘Same here,’ Ruby replied respectfully. ‘My name’s Ruby. I think I’ll stop by the chapel first, try to clear my head a little. You don’t mind if I stay here a while?’

‘Not at all,’ the old man nodded, wearing a charitable smile. ‘Stay as long as you need to, Huntress.’

‘Wha...?’ Ruby blinked. ‘How did you...?’

‘Why, I can tell from one look at you!’ Brother Isbark laughed. ‘Not to mention that you said you’d been travelling, yes? Only Huntsmen would travel outside the cities for so long these days.’

‘Right,’ Ruby murmured. She had almost forgotten that she was stuck in an era where Aura-users were frightfully common. In her later years, many youngsters didn’t even know what a Huntsman was. They were anathema to the See. ‘See you later, Brother.’

‘As I shall see you,’ Isbark said, motioning to head down the corridor the opposite direction the one previously indicated to her. ‘Gods keep you, Ruby.’

Ruby waved at him as she slowly made her way down the corridor. A minute’s walk led her to another set of double doors, its windows opaque with posters reminding visitors to be quiet and respectful of staff and fellow worshippers. Ruby slowly pulled them open to a long, wide room that could double as a second meeting hall if the situation required it. The room was dim from a lack of power to the lamps overhead, and all the light in the room came from the bunches of candles that were placed beside dozens of statuettes, arranged in neat, deferential rows. There were a few people kneeling in front of these statuettes; one woman was dressed in a nun’s robe, while the others were wearing what was barely better than rags. Ruby let them tend to their spirits as she sought out the statuette she was seeking. She approached it, and saw a scruffy young man wearing a raised hood in front of the icon rise to his feet and shuffle around her to the exit. She knelt down before an icon of a teenage girl in a suit of plate armour, a cape flowing behind her as she bowed her head, her hands resting on the pommel of a cruciform greatsword. She almost cried at the sight. The Iron Saint, one of the earliest Huntresses, the one who brought the teachings of the Old Gods to Vale. How long had it been since she had seen such an icon out in the open? It was all she could think to take one of the provided matches, ignite one of the unlit wicks, and meditate upon a simple prayer of thanks. Her eyes were closed and her hands were clasped together, and she remained still and silent even as tears broke free.

She was home.

 

* * *

 

Nineteen hours later and three thousand metres west, Ruby Rose was planning an _awesome_ day.

It wasn’t going to be the best day ever (that honour went to the insane food fight right before the semester started), but Ruby was not about to be deterred. She had the support of two of the best teams ever, and with that, there was nothing she couldn’t do.

‘Ruby?’ Weiss cut in, her voice tight with uncertainty. ‘Remind me again why we’re here.’

The biggest challenge would be making sure everyone was on board. She had gathered everyone in the common room and made preparations, at least in her eyes. In the eyes of JNPR and the rest of RWBY, the girl had practically dragged them out of bed, practically kicked down JNPR’s door dragged them down to the common room and shoved two tables together, all in the space of about five minutes with not so much as a word of explanation.

‘Yeah, Ruby, what gives?’ Yang asked, stifling a yawn. Behind her, Pyrrha closed a hand over her mouth to muffle a near-silent yawn, Jaune swayed on his feet, blinking frequently as he struggled to stay awake, while Nora stretched languidly, yawning like a great brass horn. ‘You didn’t even give me time to brush my hair.’

‘If I did, we’d have been waiting forever.’ Ruby answered snippily.

‘Waiting for...what, exactly?’ Blake ventured. Whatever the younger girl was going to answer, Blake had already compiled a list of things she would rather be doing (chief among them being sleep.)

‘I’m glad you asked, Blake,’ Ruby cheered, reaching into the satchel that she had grabbed just as she left the dorm room. She pulled out a small white binder, and slid it towards the centre of the conjoined square table. From there, the eight students could see bold, scrawling runes that read “NEW BFF PARTY PLANS!!! :)” superimposed messily onto elegant, now barely legible cursive that could just be deciphered as “Transfer Student Outreach Program.”

‘What is this?!’ Weiss shouted indignantly, gesturing violently to the binder. ‘This is the second binder in three days. Stop appropriating my things!’

‘Share as much as I care, Weiss,’ Ruby pouted, batting her eyelids. Weiss’ only response was to scowl even deeper. ‘Anyway, this right here contains our perfect plan for welcoming our new friends from the other Academies. I have gathered you here so that we can come up with ideas to make new friends from all over the world! You can suggest anything you want, but know that we don’t _have_ to ask about weapons and fighting styles.’ She looked directly at Weiss as she made that point. ‘See, Weiss? My plans don’t have ulterior motives.’

‘How exactly is this going to work, Ruby?’ Ren asked pointedly, speaking in his usual measured tone despite his lidded eyes bordered by dark rings. ‘There aren’t many people here. It just went eight-thirty.’

A cursory look around the room showed the truth of Ren’s observation. The common room was a wide interior space filled with tables and plush chairs of varying descriptions and sizes. A semicircle of vibrant plush couches surrounded a flat-screen television mounted onto the far wall, and a cafe-bar was nestled into the opposite corner. The espresso machine was deactivated, as the cafe didn’t open until half-nine. Only around two-dozen souls were in the room at this time on a Saturday morning, and precious few were not Beacon students.

‘I can tell you that we won’t be seeing Team SSSN this morning,’ Blake informed the gathered party. ‘Sun is basically the only early riser, and apparently Scarlet is even fussier over his hair than Yang is.’

‘Who knows, we might just get some early birds,’ Ruby responded, seeming a little less sure of herself. ‘Okay, first suggestion: video game tournament!’

‘That sounds like it could be pretty good,’ Jaune agreed. ‘What’re you planning on playing?’

‘Yang and I like to have a few rounds of _Kung Fu Ninja Ultimate Slayer Death Battle 2_ whenever we have some spare time,’ Ruby answered proudly. ‘I’d like to think we’re pretty good. Uncle Qrow always beats us, though.’

‘Let me guess,’ Jaune said, smirking knowingly, ‘he picks Soaring Ninja, doesn’t he?’

‘Oh gosh, yes!’ Ruby shouted, slapping her head as she laughed in relief. ‘How did you know?’

‘I had a couple of rounds with Yang about a week ago,’ he explained. ‘ _At the game,_ lower that eyebrow, Blake. I’ve seen her play. The only way anyone can beat her is if they pick the guy at the top of the banlist.’

‘Naw, thanks,’ Yang smiled at the compliment, but soon it dropped. ‘Too bad all the mechanical skill in Remnant won’t help you against all those I-Frames.’

‘Yeah, who was the wise guy who thought it would be a good idea to give a character that many I-Frames?’ Jaune added, his voice growing a little more heated. ‘Not to mention the effortless block-cancel and combo breaker.’

‘And he jumps so high that nobody’s anti-air can touch him!’ Ruby yelled. ‘And if you jump, you’re done. All thanks to his midair light-light-heavy-light-light-heavy combo.’

‘Yes, the gods-damned midair combo!’ Jaune roared passionately. ‘We’ve got a guy with unbeatable air game, smooth and easy animation cancelling and more I-Frames than anyone else in the game. You know what else we should give him? A frigging infinite combo! What were they thinking?!’

Jaune looked around as he halted his tirade, his face growing slightly pink as he noticed that more than a few of the heads in the room were turning.

‘I think I understood some of those words,’ Blake wondered. ‘What exactly just happened?’

‘In a few words,’ Yang answered. ‘Fuck Soaring Ninja.’

‘As...interesting, as this discussion was,’ Pyrrha interrupted, smiling like she was physically incapable of using a stronger word against something Jaune and Ruby cared so much about, ‘does anyone have any other suggestions?’

‘Oooh, how about a wrestling tournament?’ Nora grinned conspiratorially as she slammed a fist down onto the table. ‘We’ll break anybody stupid enough to come to this table!’

‘Nora,’ Ren placed a soothing hand on her back. ‘We’re here to befriend the exchange students, not hospitalise them.’

‘Probably better than anything that was in Weiss’ original plans,’ Yang chuckled, earning a venomous glare from the girl in question.

‘How dare you!’ she snapped, puffing out her delicate chest to reinforce her bruised pride. ‘I’ll have you know that this binder contains numerous entertaining activities that are geared toward opening conversation and sharing cultures. They’d probably work better than stupid games or wrestling, if I do say so myself.’

‘Very well then.’ Blake accepted Weiss’ proposal, pulling the binder closer. She opened it and flicked through some of the assembled notes, her trademark eyebrow rising ever higher with each page. ‘Antique Mantlese tea ceremony? Classic Valish literature? The revival of Pre-Unification themes in contemporary Mistrali oil paintings? Are you trying to bore potential opponents into giving away their strategies?’

‘Official confirmation, Weiss Schnee is the most boring person on the planet,’ Yang teased, thoroughly enjoying Weiss’ glare as she gently took the folder out of Blake’s hands. Her grin went a little lopsided as she continued to read. ‘Contemporary theological discussion? A discourse on Atlesian expansion? A sharing of views on interspecies relations? Weiss, you should just go with Nora’s idea if you want to start a fight so badly.’

‘Well, excuse me for suggesting something more highbrow than competitive thumb-twiddling or trying to break each other’s bones,’ Weiss bit back.

‘Oh, we’ll see how highbrow you are...’ Yang glowered, cracking her knuckles.

Ruby saw the intensity of the looks they gave one another. A few months earlier, she would have worried that they would come to blows, but they had been really improving their teamwork recently. Weiss would help Yang with some of their more difficult essays, and Yang would return the favour by lending both her fists to the team exercises. The result was an endless battle of jibes and taunts that never got too unpleasant or personal. It was an odd friendship that few imagined could be shared between a Patch Islander and an Atlesian socialite. Most assumed they would simply accuse one another of being products of incest and then go their separate ways.

‘Guys,’ Blake drawled, not raising her voice or even batting an eye. ‘Ideas now, fistfight later.’ And then there was Blake. Though she didn’t say much, and though she was fairly certain that Yang and Weiss knew her better than she did, Ruby still appreciated Blake’s calming effect on the two. Though she rarely spoke of her past with the White Fang, Ruby could tell just from the little smiles she wore when the silliness ramped up that she appreciated them just as much. Ruby felt content just thinking about it. Team RWBY. She hadn’t the faintest idea of what to expect when Ozpin invited her to join early, and a group of amazing friends had not been on that list. Now she had her team, and JNPR too, and she thanked the Gods every day for the good fortune in knowing them.

‘My, my, what’s going on here?’ asked a low sultry voice from just out the corner of her eye.  Ruby turned, and grinned as the first foreign team snagged the bait. Three figures approached the conjoined table. The shortest was a girl with mint-green hair cut into a neat bob, her clothes revealing great swathes of mahogany skin. The second was a boy as pale as death, dressed in a grey tracksuit as he walked with a self-satisfied swagger. The tallest among them was the most intriguing, dressed in tight jeans and an open leather jacket with her chest covered in white linen wrappings, regarding the gathered eight with eyes like pools of liquid gold.

‘We have our first takers, guys,’ Ruby called out, making sure all eight pairs of eyes were on the newcomers. ‘You’re the transfer students from Haven I met last night. Emerald, right?’

‘That’s me,’ Emerald confirmed, an easy smile on her face as she gestured to the other two. ‘That’s Mercury, and this is Cinder.’

‘Thank you for the introduction, Emerald,’ Cinder nodded, peering imperiously down at Ruby. She shivered under the intensity of her gaze, and underneath the desk, Weiss was already tapping away at her Scroll. ‘Though we’ve met before, you still have us at a disadvantage, miss...’

‘Ruby,’ the girl answered quickly, gesturing stiffly at her teammates. ‘This is Weiss, Blake and Yang. The others are Jaune, Ren, Nora and—’

‘Pyrrha Nikos,’ Cinder interrupted, looking in her direction as the redhead swivelled towards her.

‘Excuse me?’ she asked, smiling despite the hesitation in her voice. ‘Have we met before?’

‘I’m Mistrali, Pyrrha,’ Cinder explained. ‘I doubt there’s a single citizen of our Kingdom who hasn’t heard of you.’

Pyrrha nodded warily. It always came back to her fame. Before anyone could ask any more questions, Weiss hummed in satisfaction.

‘Just found you on the system,’ Weiss declared triumphantly. ‘You’re Cinder Fall, Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black of Team...’ Her eyebrows shot up, and her smug smile crinkled into an uncertain grimace. ‘I’m not sure I should say this word out loud...’

‘It’s pronounced “cinnamon,”’ Emerald clarified, sighing wearily as she looked at Weiss with a blank, tired stare.

‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure _somebody_ at Haven could’ve come up with a better name,’ Mercury expanded, giving Cinder a quick look. ‘Like “carmine.” Imagine it. Team CMNE. But no, just call us Team CMEN and subject us to dick jokes that got tired after two days.’ Though the look Cinder gave him only lasted for a split second, he could feel its heat like a sunbeam through a looking glass. He would suffer for his insolence, but it would be so worth it, especially from the chortles raised among the table.

‘ _Snrk!_ Ren, he said “dick!”’ Nora whispered loudly between snorting giggles.

‘Nora, please grow up,’ Ren chided her, deadpan in his expression.

‘Shame to hear,’ Yang consoled Mercury. ‘I consider myself an aficionado of dick jokes.’

‘Can we _not_ talk about dicks all morning?’ Blake asked, almost despairingly.

‘Changing the subject,’ Weiss interrupted, rolling her eyes at her teammate’s flagrant immaturity, ‘where’s the fourth member of your team? This...Nieves Kono?’

‘She’s indisposed,’ Cinder answered vaguely. She could not very well tell them that Neo was currently in the presence of Roman Torchwick, either compiling the intelligence she had gathered like she was supposed to, or still in his bed. Though the diminutive woman could easily pass for a girl almost ten years younger, she had elected to stay with Roman, unless there were occasions were all four needed to be present, which were few. She had the foresight to supply a false name when they hacked their way into the tournament roster, and had a disguise picked out for when she needed to make a public appearance, all because of the minute chance that someone would see her when Roman got into a fight and was clever enough to put two and two together. Cinder admired her cleverness. Her talents were wasted on Torchwick. ‘She had a little too much to drink at our settling-in party.’

‘I see,’ Pyrrha nodded sceptically, ‘at least you haven’t gotten yourselves into trouble.’ Though she had never touched it herself, Pyrrha knew that one was allowed to drink alcohol from the age of sixteen in Mistral, as opposed to twenty in Vale. If Professor Goodwitch had caught them disobeying local law, the Gods themselves would not spare CMEN her wrath.

‘I doubt there’ll be any repeat incidents,’ Cinder soothed. She scanned her golden eyes across the combined tables, memorising cherubic, complacent faces gathered around, knowing anyone of them could be Ozpin’s newest Guardian.

‘But enough about us,’ she said, her lip pulling into a devious smirk. ‘Tell me more about yourselves.’

 

* * *

 

An older Ruby Rose woke up that morning and confirmed that this wasn’t some bizarre dream. The knife was already in her hand, even as she yawned. Though she knew it could frighten the other guests of the shelter, it was a habit that had saved her life too many times to break.

She gave the knife a quick once over. The sixteen centimetre serrated blade, intended for skinning game, cutting ropes and emergency self-defence, was now her only means of fighting. Recreating Crescent Rose would require access to an engineering workshop, thousands of Lien worth of parts, equipment and Dust, and time that she simply did not have. She climbed out of bed, and almost tipped over for the lack of a familiar weight at the small of her back. She was starting to miss her darling already.

A simple breakfast of eggs and toast was served in the common room. After devouring the plain meal like a rabid Beowolf, she went down to the chapel to kneel before the Iron Saint.

 _Blessed Saint and Greater Ones_ , she recited mentally before continuing with her prayer. _I still don’t know why you’ve sent me here, but I still thank you for the opportunity you’ve given me, whatever you expect from me. I ask you once again to let the people I loved find rest in your company: Dad, Qrow, Yang, Blake, Weiss, Jaune...Penny...Countless others. I know they may still live in this world, in which case grant them health and protection. If it’s not too much, send me a sign, a clue so I know what you want from me. In return, I can give nothing but my unwavering faith and gratitude. Let it be so._

She unclasped her hands and opened her eyes, reflecting on what she had asked the heavens. Weiss was always convinced that the guidance she often received was a result of her focusing her mind during the prayer rather than through anything divine, but Ruby had always maintained that the Gods could never be overt. The Iron Saint helped her followers help themselves and others; that had been her way in life and in eternity.

What Ruby needed more than heavenly guidance was a plan. Before she could truly begin piecing together the purpose of her journey through time, she needed a way of securing her own means of survival, having long since deemed this shelter a temporary solution. She needed food, shelter, and Dust. As reliable as her knife had been, she knew she could not rely on it as her primary weapon for too long, so a heavier armament was in order; a scythe would be preferable, but she could make do with a sword or a semiautomatic rifle. Yet before she could secure any of those things, she needed money. Though a woman of her talents could find lucrative employability within the City’s underworld, she still had her honour as a Huntress, and she would not harm others for a cause as petty as profit. If she remembered correctly, there were places that were so infested with Grimm that local authorities would pay anyone who could hold a weapon to trim their numbers, though truth be told, such places were a lot more common in the eleventh century. So far, it seemed the first step of her plan was sorted. She would polish her knife, hitch a ride to some dark forest where they paid twenty Lien for every Beowolf vanquished, and then she would return to the City and rent out a cheap hotel room, after maybe stopping by at a bar and ordering the stiffest drink they had. Good food, good rest, and now all she needed was a good drink to round out her salvation.

She was roused from her thoughts by the rumble of raised voices. Creaking open the door, the shouting became clearer and harsher as she identified it as coming from the reception area.

‘...and like I’ve already told you, you can’t stop me!’ someone shouted, defiant and indignant.

‘Please, listen to reason, Sven!’ implored the now familiar voice of Brother Isbark, his voice projected but not raised. ‘No good can come of this!’

‘No good?’ the other voice asked with sardonic bafflement. ‘ _No good?!_ I’m the one fighting to make a difference for our people, and you think that’s a bad thing?’

Ruby listened as she approached the scene, only getting a good look at the monk’s conversation partner once she reached the threshold of the reception. She recognised him as the scruffy man she saw yesterday, and with his hood down she could see the stubbly jawline, the wild brown hair and the raised wolf ears. His wide jaw and low cheekbones reinforced his similarity in appearance to the monk.

‘The anger you feel is more than understandable,’ Isbark cautioned gently, ‘and yes, there is still a world’s worth of progress that needs to be made for both our kinds, but this is not the way.’

‘It’s the only way!’ Sven snapped, causing the monk to take a step back. The harsh snarl on his face faded away as he quickly simmered down, giving way to a cruel grin. ‘ _Both_ our kinds, you say? For years, you’ve been talking and acting as if you’re one of _them_ , but you’re not, and there’ll always be people to remind you. How many broken windows have you had to fix in the last nine months? How often do you give first aid to someone who got jumped by a street gang, or shelter to Faunus whose homes got burned down? It’s barely any better here than it was in Vinslätter, and Gods know how long it’s gonna be before this powder keg goes up!’

‘And so you intend to cast your lot in with those who would strike the match?’ Isbark asked pointedly, looking Sven directly in the eye. Sven drew in a breath, trying not to show any outward signs of losing his composure, and returned the old man’s stare with a toxic scowl.

‘The White Fang is going to change our lives for the better,’ Sven declared quietly. ‘They will make sure every member of our species ascends to their rightful place, even if we have to drag you by the ears. As to whether that’s good for us spiritually, I’ll let the Gods figure that out.’ At was at that moment when Sven’s eyes flickered to the threshold. Noticing Ruby, his eyes narrowed contemptuously.

‘I ought to go,’ he sneered, ‘it seems you’ve found another human to hide behind.’ He turned on his heel and stormed out of the building before Isbark could respond, shoving the door out of the way with a powerful thrust of his palm. The monk stood stock still, gaping like a fish at the slowly closing door, and then releasing a deep, mournful sigh. Ruby took a step towards the old man, and asked a risky question.

‘Heard that little exchange,’ she explained neutrally. ‘White Fang give you trouble before?’

‘The only trouble they give me is the trouble they breed in his heart,’ he answered sadly. His tone belied none of the offense or hostility Ruby had been expecting.

‘Definitely seemed troubled,’ she observed drolly. ‘Also seemed quite similar. Was he your son?’ It seemed unlikely to her, but there were some monastic traditions out there that treated the vows of poverty, celibacy and obedience as mere guidelines, particularly in Vacuo.

‘Nephew, actually,’ he corrected. His lupine ears drooped as his face fell, and he turned towards Ruby. ‘You hear him mention a place called Vinslätter? It was once a winemaking town out in the Neutral Territories. It was a beautiful, peaceful place, especially when you saw the sunrise over the vineyards. About fifteen years ago, over a third of the settlement was destroyed in a pogrom. Sven and I were among the few Faunus who escaped. His parents were not so lucky, and the perpetrators’ bloodlust called forth the Grimm and sealed their own fates shortly after.’

‘That’s awful,’ Ruby consoled sincerely. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

‘Thank you for the consolation,’ he nodded sagely, ‘but I think that, as a Huntress, you may have seen even worse.’ Ruby nodded glumly. He was completely correct in that assumption, though not for the reasons he was thinking.

‘When we came to Vale,’ he continued, ‘I thought our lives would improve, and in many ways they did. Though I pledged myself to this community and the people of this neighbourhood, Sven has fallen victim to a more insidious evil. You can prepare for a pogrom, and given enough time, you may even learn to reconcile the grief and the horror. But Sven is not a man of the cloth, faithful as he may be. He suffers insults every day, beatings every other week, never given a chance to reconcile the last or prepare for the next, and that rots the soul like nothing else. The White Fang feeds his anger, because they know it gives him strength in the hard times, but I fear that it will lead to him getting himself killed.’

‘Or him killing someone else,’ Ruby said dourly. She watched as Isbark turned away in discomfort, and only then did she realise that the idea was supposed to go unspoken. Thinking about the old man’s story made something spark in her brain, creating an idea worthy of consideration.

‘What if it followed him?’ she suggested. ‘What if I could convince him that the Fang won’t do him any good?’

‘I would pray for your success, of course,’ he shrugged, ‘but if _I_ couldn’t get through to him, I doubt he would listen to a human.’

‘I know it would be ridiculous for him to compare a human and a Faunus, but I’ve had a few experiences that he might be able to relate to,’ she stated seriously, her eyes narrowing in a dangerous way. ‘The White Fang killed my wife. One of my best friends was an ex-Fang Faunus who suffered more at their hands than any human I personally knew. I know for a fact the White Fang won’t break the cycle. If they want to strike a match so badly, then the best way might be to let him watch as they lose a few fingers.’

‘Those are some strong words, Ruby,’ Isbark said. He had a worried look in his eyes as his lips curled. ‘I don’t believe you can dissuade him from the path of vengeance if you seek it yourself.’

‘I might have some vengeance in my heart, but I won’t let it control my mind,’ she declared. Pausing to breathe slowly, she opened her old eyes and flashed him a warm smile. ‘I _can_ help your nephew. I won’t let him make the same mistakes I did.’

‘I’m still not certain,’ the monk sighed, ‘but in times like these, it seems a little faith is required.’

‘Well, you would know a little more about faith than I would,’ Ruby laughed, stepping towards the front door. ‘I should get going. I don’t want to lose his trail. Thanks for everything.’

‘You are more than welcome,’ Isbark smiled, watching as Ruby waved while she opened the door. ‘May the Gods watch over you, Huntress.’

She smiled gratefully as she closed the door behind her. It was the last time Brother Isbark would ever see the Huntress.

 

As far as plans went, this wasn’t perfect. But it was still a plan.

Sven’s trail was not too hard to pick up, and now she was following him until he ran into some of his colleagues in the Fang. She was making sure she stayed at least one corner turn away, and though he may have had a second pair of ears, he did not have the situational awareness or the heightened senses of a Huntsman. He was none the wiser. He was the kind of man who fell not even ten seconds into a confrontation between Aura-users. A marching band could creep up behind him and he would be deaf to the music even as they slit his throat. Of course, the whole point of Ruby stalking him was so it wouldn’t come to that.

Still, Ruby did not follow Sven for the singular purpose of saving his soul. She would have tailed anyone who could lead her to the White Fang. Following him might lead her to a base of operations, or to their next mission. He might even lead her to Cinder herself. She had prayed for a sign as to where to go first, and the sign had come in the form of Sven. Ask and ye shall receive, she thought.

There was one more thing to do. During her chase, she noticed the same colourful dumpster she had seen yesterday. Sighing mournfully, she trotted over to it, took of her cloak and dumped it in. As much as it hurt to throw away her security blanket, it was a tactical decision. There was another Ruby in this timeline, and there was no need to get her in any trouble by drawing the ire of the Fang. Gods knew she would find enough of it on her own. She would not allow her to lose her innocence as early as she did. She would not allow her to be sprayed by the blood she was about to spill.

From that moment onwards, the Huntress was no longer Ruby Rose, and she remained anonymous even as she stalked her quarry into the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter took a little longer than I thought. I mean, my notes for this chapter where so simple, but I ended up putting so much meat on those bones. Though some of it might be fat, like the scene with Present!Ruby. The point mainly was to demonstrate how CMEN got intel on RWBY and JNPR, but I just wasted time introducing characters we already know and love. But I digress.
> 
> I made-do on one of my tags and talked more about the religions of Remnant. I'm mainly going for a Greco-Roman/Shintoist style of polytheism, where numerous religions blended together over time to form a fluid spirituality with a fuckton of deities (including deified persons like the Obvious Jesus Analogue.)
> 
> Tune in next time for more fight scenes and more villains. I love and hate CMEN so much (and I can tell this is only the beginning of the sperm jokes.)
> 
> Colour Glossary:  
> "Isbark" is Swedish for "sleet."  
> "Vinslatter" is Swedish for "wine plains."  
> "Nieves" is Spanish for "snows." "Kono" is Basque for "cone."


	3. III

** III **

**_The Quarry’s Quandary_ **

**_Best Laid Plans_ **

**_The Guardians_ **

****

For the fifth time since they began their journey to the warehouse, Sven Isbark checked his rifle. First round chambered, firing pin in alignment, muzzle clear and safety on, at least for now. The gun was a simple automatic light-calibre repeater, costing fifteen-hundred Lien a pop with two spare magazines that contained twenty-four nine-millimetre Dust-propelled rounds each. Of the two dozen Faunus assigned to this mission, he was only one of six to be given a rifle, the rest having to rely on pistols, swords and knives.

He shifted in his seat in the crowded Bullhead, knowing he was just as uncomfortable as the rest of the twelve Fang recruits strapped into the benches. His white Kevlar-lined jacket felt too tight on his chest and too loose around his sides, his black cowl smothered the secondary ears that were already suffering from the radio headset stuffed inside them, and his visor practically eliminated all peripheral vision. Whose bright idea was it to make the eye-slits so small?

‘Hey, Isbark,’ the man next to him called, projecting his voice over the hum of the VTOL’s hull and smiling grimly as he took a whetstone to his scimitar. ‘How many guards do you think’ll be there?’

‘Probably might not be many,’ answered a woman on the opposing bench, ejecting her pistol’s magazine and inspecting it for the tenth time. ‘They said they got some tech guys to send some phony emails, give the staff a last-minute reassignment. We’ll be in and out, Roth.’

‘That’s bullshit, Silverman,’ Roth spat, his bronzed fingers curling around his whetstone, resisting the temptation to toss it onto the floor. ‘That’s not how the White Fang’s supposed to do things! How are we supposed to send a message to humanity by sneaking around like this?’

‘Because nobody’s supposed to know we’re here, dumbass,’ Sven answered roughly. ‘Unlike you, I actually listened to the briefing. We’re going to land by this probably deserted warehouse, lift the merchandise onto the boat moored nearby, and sail it up the river back to base. If we’re lucky, we might get to kill anyone dumb enough to show up despite the reassignment, and by the time the Atlesians realise what’s going on, their stuff’ll be long gone.’

Roth nodded with a brief hum, his lips curling with dissatisfaction. ‘And do you know what exactly this stuff’s supposed to be? Is it Dust?’

‘All we know is that it’s not Dust,’ said a man in a corner near the cockpit, filing his nails with a dagger. Kurosuna, Sven recalled his name. ‘The honourable Mr. Torchwick didn’t deign to give us any details.’

‘Fucking Torchwick,’ Roth growled. ‘Remind me again why we’re working for that scum?’

‘Working _with,_ ’ Silverman told him, or at least told herself. ‘I don’t like him either, but he has money, connections, and certain people he wants dead just as much as we do. Besides, Taurus has a blade to his neck, so I don’t think he’ll be selling us into slavery any time soon.’

‘I hear it’s someone worse than Taurus who has him by the short hairs,’ Sven contributed, relaying the rumour he heard at the recruitment rally. ‘I heard he’s working for a woman in red who can kill you with a flick of her wrist. Apparently, even Taurus is scared of her.’

‘Someone who can scare Adam Taurus?’ Roth chuckled. ‘Now I _know_ you’re bullshitting me! What, did the Gods plant that load in your head in your dreams?’

‘Come on, man,’ Sven groaned, trying his best to give a disapproving stare from behind the mask. Roth could tell what he was doing, and laughed heartily.

‘I’m just messing with you, praying man!’ he japed. ‘Tell you what. Before we touch down, I want you ask the Gods something for me.’

‘Depends,’ Sven shrugged.

‘Tell the Iron Saint to make sure there are lots of humie sons of bitches for me to carve up!’ he laughed. The others joined in, and Sven made a theatrical gesture of bowing his head and clasping his hands.

Instead of making such a blatantly blasphemous prayer, Sven took the time think about the people he met because of the White Fang, and on just how diverse this group of Faunus was. There was himself, a kingdom outsider, orphaned in a pogrom. There was Roth, a hardened ruffian who jumped from one Faunus gang to the next before joining the Fang. Silverman, a banker’s daughter who became radicalised by White Fang propaganda spread through her university campus, and Kurosuna, a former police officer fired without investigation due to alleged ties to the White Fang that only recently became genuine. So many individuals from so many walks of life, united with a common purpose. Gods, it sounded like one of his uncle’s old stories.

He heard the hum of the engine quieten down, and felt the pit of his stomach rise as they neared the ground. His grip tightened on the rifle. Time to see if their prayers would be answered.

 

The warehouse was as quiet as the grave, to the bitter disappointment of many of the new recruits. The asphalt-floored yard that stretched out into the dock was crowded with four stacked column of shipping containers, leaving barely enough space for the Bullheads to touch down. A silvery twilight was cast in the spaces where long shadows didn’t touch, providing scant shelters of light in the darkness. The place would have been silent save for the brush of the wind and the wash of the sea, but the dock was a live with the sound of bustle and murmuring of Faunus beneath the screams of the Bullheads.

‘Right, now that we’re here, let’s review the plan,’ announced their commander. His name was Musgo Víbora, and Sven could tell from a single look that he was not a man to be crossed. Not because of his large frame, or his tree trunk arms swirling with tattoos. Not even because of the enormous saw-like contraption holstered on his back, or the fact that only Aura-users would carry weapons like that. No, what intimidated Sven was the full-faced mask that adorned his shaved head, the opaque eye-slits staring into his very heart.

‘We’ll be facing little to no opposition tonight,’ he informed them. ‘Our weapons are a precaution. The goods we’re after are in the four shipping containers there, there, here and here.’ He pointed over to the neat towering columns, indicating the aforementioned containers, and then pointed to three of the gathered Fang grunts.

‘Zabi, Ouro, Kurosuna. You will go to our boat about three hundred metres west of here and guard it. Radio in if you see anything suspicious.’ Víbora turned his blank, fearsome visage on Sven, and pointed a mighty finger at him, causing him to flinch.

‘Isbark, Roth. You two will search the warehouse. There’s a possibility that not everyone got the memo, so some of us need to make sure. If you encounter any resistance, neutralise it. The rest of you will climb the containers and attach the tow cables to then. We’ll move the goods to the boat, and then we sail out. Everyone got it? Then let’s move out!’

‘You heard the big guy, praying man,’ Roth laughed, clapping Sven forcefully on the shoulder. ‘We should get going.’ He gripped his rifle tightly as Roth led him down the improvised aisle between two columns. His head craned around to watch the others at work, damn this visor, and saw as some of the more agile Fang recruits scaled the ribbed structures of the containers like they were pitted rock surfaces, with tow hooks secured in each their fists. He briefly wondered what these containers held that was so important to their cause, if it wasn’t Dust, but decided to hold his tongue, listening to the brush of the breeze.

‘Hey, did you hear that?’ Roth asked, slowing his pace as he looked around. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and accelerated his stroll. ‘Forget it. Probably just the wind.’

Inside the warehouse, the containers were not nearly so uniform or so well stacked. The shipping containers they had seen outside were few and far between, and those few titanic containers were flanked with man-sized crates and small handheld parcels, stacked high enough to reach the sides of the containers, never hoping to touch the far away ceiling. The abandoned forklifts and carriers trucks added to the silent landscape and created a veritable obstacle course to search.

‘So,’ opened Sven, ‘think we should split up?’

‘Oh, leave us to be picked off one by one, why don’t you?’ Roth complained as he drew his sword. ‘After all, you’ve got a gun if you happen to go up the creek.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not Rame,’ Sven shrugged, flicking the safety off his rifle. ‘Did you see him? Lucky bastard had a rocket launcher.’

‘Why would they give the guy a fucking bazooka anyway?’ the former gangster whined. ‘Why would they bring so many guys and so much firepower if it’s such a simple job?’

Sven shrugged in silence, turning away from Roth as he went down the path to the left. He heard Roth curse under his breath before turning right. Whilst he gave no verbal response, he was now fully considering Roth’s point as he tiptoed delicately around scattered parcels. He stalked around the labyrinthine arrangement of boxes, aiming around every corner, yet his mind was focused on all the things that didn’t add up. The apparent simplicity of this operation and the firepower they were given in spite of it, as well as the fact that a lieutenant was with them, indicated something dangerous was afoot. There was also that persistent, nagging feeling that something was watching him, following his every move. Perhaps someone was in this warehouse after all, and just as Roth said, would incapacitate or kill them one by one. His rifle shook as he swallowed a lump, cold sweat beading on his skin. Instead of stepping, he silently slid the soles of his boots along the cold floor. It was this quieter form of movement that let his toe tap against something he almost missed in the dark. He bent down to inspect what could now tell was a discarded Scroll. He hummed in interest as he activated it, watching the device unfold and reveal its contents.

‘Looks like some kind of invoice,’ he whispered, scrolling through the list of items with his thumb. He skimmed it quickly, noting that these crates were the property of the Atlesian military, containing rations, airship parts, combat drones and...

‘Atlesian Paladins?’ he reread the unfamiliar term. ‘What the hell are...?’

‘Hey, Isbark,’ Roth’s voice suddenly squawked into his radio, before he was suddenly cut off. He wondered what that was about for a moment, and then he heard a cruel chuckle as the headset buzzed to life again. ‘You should move in on my position. You’re gonna love this!’

 

Sven meandered his way around the minefield of scattered boxes, following the sounds of a struggle. He turned around the corner of a large shipping crate, finding himself on the opposite corner of the warehouse. Roth, who had his back to Sven, was hunkered down on someone laying face-down on the floor, pressing his weight into their lower back with his knee, wrenching an arm behind their back with one hand and raising his sword to their throat with the other.

‘Finally here,’ he smiled grimly, speaking with effort as he craned his neck around. ‘Come round and take a better look. You won’t believe this!’

Sven did as instructed, circling around the struggling victim as he took careful aim with his rifle, and once he was at a sufficient angle, he was just as surprised as Roth implied. He was not surprised at the fact that the interloper was a woman, nor was he surprised by her striking features twisted with rage, or the ginger locks that tumbled down around her armour plated shoulders. What made him look again was the pair of vulpine ears twitching on her crown.

‘Yeah, I know, they made me look twice too,’ Roth whistled. He nodded his head to the side, indicating the pistol that lay on its side far from where she was pinned. ‘Little bitch thought she could surprise me. Seems she still has enough loyalty to her species to not shoot on sight.’

‘Lucky for you, indeed,’ Sven gulped, unsure of what else to say. He pointed the rifle down at her glaring face, his exposed skin suddenly going cold. ‘Alright you...talk. What are doing here? Nobody’s supposed to be here tonight.’

‘Except you, I take it,’ she hissed, grunting as she tried to break free of Roth’s grip. ‘I work security here. That email looked suspicious, so I came here just to make sure everything was alright, and here I find you sons of bitches skulking about like the thieves you are.’

‘The mouth on this one,’ Roth grinned. ‘Oh, you should have been here when I first brought her down. The acts she accused my female relatives of partaking in!’ His smile faded away as he pressed the blade closer to her neck. ‘Of course, she probably did a lot worse to land a gig like this. Now, talk. There any others here? How many humans did you promise to suck off if they came here?’

‘Speaking from experience, buddy?’ she growled, smiling defiantly as she shifted her feet behind him. ‘I heard the rumours, and I bet Torchwick just _loves_ the feisty ones.’

The guard suck in a strained breath as Roth dropped his sword and used his free hand to grab a fistful of hair, yanking her head upwards.

‘I’d be a little more careful with my mouth if I were you,’ he hissed, leering from behind his visor as he leaned closer. ‘Before we get rid of the humans, we’ve got to take care of adorable little house pets like you who suck up to them. Now if you cooperate, we might let you go. But if you keep mouthing off like that, then we’ll just have to... _re-educate_ you on where your loyalties ought to lie. Bet you haven’t been with a real Faunus in ages...’

With a growl of effort, the guard thrust her head back, knocking Roth in the jaw. As he instinctively let go of her hair, she leaned forward and pulled her leg out from under him, which then rocketed back out to smash him between the legs. He howled as he went down, allowing her scramble to her feet and pick up his sword. Sven finally snapped out of his stupor, letting out a wordless shout of warning as he pointed his gun at her. She stared down the barrel for a moment, her eyes twitching left and right as she looked for exits and weighed her options. She hissed bitterly and she looked at the ground, letting the sword fall as she unclenched her fists. No sooner had the blade clattered against the hard floor did Roth struggle to his feet. He stumbled towards her, taking wheezing breaths, and then unleashed an enraged snarled as his fist lashed out, hitting her on the cheek and sending her to the floor.

‘Oh, I’m _really_ going to make you regret doing that,’ he growled, panting as his body worked through the pain. All his teeth were bared in a grin as he drew his knife from the utility belt on his waist. Both her hands went to grip his wrist as he grabbed one of her ears, letting out a yelp of pain as she climbed to her knees to lessen the agony. ‘Here’s what we’re gonna do. If you want to earn a living protecting Atlas’ stuff, if you want to cosy up to those fucking humies so bad, then I think I can make things a little easier for you.’

To emphasize his point, he brought the edge of the knife closer to the base of the ear, where the orange fur flowed seamlessly into her wavy tresses.

‘You fucking sack of scum!’ she roared, barely able to conceal her dread. It would be such a simple task for Roth, since it did not take much force to saw through cartilage.

Sven looked on in muted horror. He recalled the day of the pogrom, how he hid in a broom closet as he watched the humans threaten his mother with the very same fate. They more than made good on their threats, and what they did made him wake up sweating every night. But this wasn’t some winemaker whipped up by the mob holding a blade to the mark of her heritage. This was a warrior of the White Fang, a protector of their people, making threats of mutilation and rape towards one of his own. This was backwards, Sven thought, this wasn’t right. This had to be stopped.

‘No,’ he said firmly, turning the heads of both Faunus in front of his rifle.

‘No?’ Roth drawled, his jaw dropping in disappointment. He released his grip on the guard’s ear as he roughly shoved her onto her back, and sheathed his dagger as he approached Sven. ‘What’s the big issue, buddy? Ain’t this what we signed on for?’

‘No it isn’t!’ Sven declared, pressing the barrel of his rifle against his chest out of sheer defensive reflex. ‘I joined the White Fang because I wanted to help our people. I wanted to make a real difference in people’s lives, not just patch people up in my uncle’s shelter. I can only pray that whatever the hell those Paladins are will change things, but what will _this_ achieve?’

‘I’m guessing you’re a bigger picture type of guy,’ Roth sighed, shaking his head. ‘You see, I know that the bigger picture is made of lots of little pictures. So somebody lifts some of Atlas’ fancy tech from one its warehouses. So fucking what? But take someone like her, and we have a chance to show humanity not to fuck with us, and demonstrate what happens to house pets who grovel at their feet. It’s just like you said, we’re here to change the world, and we can’t have you getting cold feet every time we have to mess up a pretty face. So what’s it gonna be, Isbark?’

‘No dice,’ Sven hissed. ‘I joined to fight those who hurt the innocent. I’m not about to do that myself.’

‘Well,’ Roth nodded, seemingly in understanding, ‘aren’t you a good little monk’s kid.’ Faster than Sven could feel it, Roth suddenly drove a fist into the pit of his stomach, tearing the rifle from his hands as they loosened their grip. He spun around to face the woman, who abruptly decided against charging at him, and he strafed deftly to the side and back, making sure he could keep both of them in his sights.

‘Okay then,’ he licked his lips, looking between the disheartened gape and the cold glare being directed at him. ‘Here’s how it’s gonna go down. You and I—’ He pointed the gun at Sven. ‘—will have encountered some unexpected resistance. We managed to drop the guards, but you didn’t make it. Think Víbora’s gonna buy that? Because I think he will.’

‘You won’t get away with this, Roth,’ Sven countered. He tried to steel himself as Roth’s sights bored down on him, but in his mind he was already considering how he would explain himself to the Saint at the Silver Gate.

‘I’m sure it’ll be no skin off his back either way,’ Roth answered confidently. His posture grew deathly still as his left hand tightened around the stock, taking careful aim. ‘At the end of the night, it’s just one more dead traitor. I hope you said your prayers, preacher boy.’

In another world this would have been the end of Sven Isbark’s story. Roth would have killed them both, Víbora would have believed his story, and the theft would have gone just as Cinder had planned. He had no idea of the scale of the events that would be caused by him opening his eyes and finding himself still breathing. Roth did not pull the trigger. Instead, he dropped the rifle, his posture slumped, and then he pitched forward and collapsed right onto his face. The hilt of a knife stuck out of the back of his cowl, buried into the base of the skull.

‘That was a brave thing you did, Sven,’ a voice echoed from the shadows, soft and melodic. ‘There may be hope for you yet.’ Barely audible footsteps approached the pair, and a woman emerged from the dark. Her face was barely visible underneath her black pants and hoodie, but his night vision could eke out a weathered face framed by red, black and grey hair, as well and cold yet kind eyes of a peculiar metallic hue.

‘I know you,’ he gasped. ‘You were at the shelter.’

‘I see your memory’s as good as your conscience,’ she noted, walking near silently to a space between the two Faunus, her eyes fixed on the discarded sword. She slipped a toe beneath the metal and kicked it up to catch it in her hand. She twirled the weapon in a figure-eight in front of her, ignoring the guard’s incredulous gaze as she whipped a few experimental slashes through the air. ‘Hmmm, balance errs a little to the right, but it’ll have to do.’

‘Wait,’ said the younger woman, concentrating as she regarded the other intruder. ‘The way you could hide from three people with night vision, the way you’re swinging that sword... Are you a Huntress? There’s no way you can be anything else.’

‘In a way of speaking,’ the Huntress answered mournfully. Her face remained pensive as she stepped across the cool floor and over to the discarded pistol. ‘What’s your name, guard?’

‘Portocale,’ the guard answered, still looking in bewilderment at the human as she got to her feet. ‘Lucille Portocale.’

‘Very well, Lucille,’ the Huntress said, not looking up as she ejected the pistol’s magazine and inspected its mechanisms. ‘Do you know any other exits, somewhere they won’t expect?’

‘There’s a small rear exit around the back, but I’m not sure...’

‘Hey, we thought this place was gonna be empty,’ Sven cut in. ‘The stuff they’re looking for is out front. They won’t notice one person going out the back door.’

‘Awfully quick to let go of your prisoners,’ Portocale droned. ‘Guess I shouldn’t believe everything I read about the White Fang.’

‘I already explained my reasoning,’ he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the Huntress. ‘I joined in order to protect my species. And if you think I’m just going to sit here let myself be led around by some human, then—’

‘Your uncle worries about you, Sven Isbark,’ the human interrupted him, his words cut short in time with a bullet being chambered. ‘He fears that if you don’t forfeit your soul to the Abyss, then you will get yourself killed. Both of those things very nearly happened, Sven.’

‘What are you trying to tell me do, huh?’ he asked accusingly. ‘Want me to quit the Fang, then go to a temple and repent for my evil ways? I spent enough time praying for a better tomorrow! Only way that’s happening is if we fight for it!’

‘Oh, that’s certainly true,’ the Huntress nodded, keeping her face and tone neutral. ‘The Saint Herself fought for the emancipation of her people, and it is in following her example that we take up arms. I haven’t been watching you for very long, but I can already tell you have a strong sense of justice, that your faith compels you to make right where there is wrong. Sadly that is no longer what the White Fang wants in its recruits.’

‘It’s not?’ Sven asked, wearing a sardonic smirk as he folded his arms. ‘How could you possibly know that, _human?_ ’

‘You think he was an isolated incident?’ the Huntress asked pointedly, gesturing towards Roth’s corpse. ‘I know how the White Fang treats “house pets”, that endearing little term that can mean anything from those who ingratiate themselves to anti-Faunus institutions to those who simply don’t want to murder every human they see. If you accept supplies or protection from one of the Fang’s enemies, if you enter into an interspecies relationship, if you make a stand against their wrongdoing like you did, or even if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, then they consider you to be something worth even less than a beast. I’ve seen it far too many times to let it happen to you.’

Sven’s first desire was to spit in her face, to shame her for the audacity of lecturing him on things she knew nothing about. But he could not argue with the look in those old eyes. Tired and heavy, he could tell she had been observing him for some time, and that Roth’s actions were among the least of what she had seen.

‘I’m sorry Sven,’ she apologised. ‘If you truly want to make a difference, and I have it on good authority that you do, then the White Fang is not the answer.’

‘Then what should I do?’ Sven asked, looking in her eyes for a foothold as he felt the floor give way.

‘I can’t tell you that,’ the Huntress answered, and he could tell she wished that was not the case. ‘All I can do is recommend that you go home, apologise to your uncle, and then take him and get out of Vale as soon as you can. The White Fang doesn’t offer a very good severance package. After that, what happens will be up to you.

‘But he was right about one thing you know,’ she added, stepping slowly over to Roth’s body. She flashed Sven a kindly smile even as she bent down and wrenched the dagger, dripping with clear, viscous fluid from his head. ‘The big picture is a collage of little pictures. It’s not what we do in the name of gods, nations, institutions or movements, but what we do and how we treat others on an individual level that really matters. No one has the right to tell you who you are. It’s something you have to discover for yourself.

‘Well, don’t just stand there!’ she suddenly snapped, looking between the two Faunus. ‘Get out of here and call the police once you’re safe.’ They nodded immediately, making a move to run before the Huntress held up her hand to stop them. ‘One more thing. When you talk to the dispatcher, tell them it’s a matter for the Guardians.’

‘What?’ Sven started. ‘Who are...’

‘They’re the only people who can help me,’ she answered brusquely. ‘Now go!’

They wasted no time in obeying, and this is where Sven Isbark and Lucille Portocale exit this story. One could learn a good deal about how they got the old monk out of the Kingdom, how they dedicated the rest of their lives to rebuilding Vinslätter, how Sven found redemption, love and inner peace. But this is no longer their story. This story returns its focus to the nameless Huntress, who set about her dark work with knife, sword and gun.

 

* * *

 

But for now, we must first look at others who began to realise how their destinies had changed this night.

‘All in all, I believe this was a successful day,’ Cinder announced, sighing as she reclined on her dorm room bed.

‘I’m not so sure whatever intel we got was worth it,’ Emerald countered, thumbing through her Scroll. ‘And if we need more? If I wanted to hang out with morons and animals all day, I’d have stayed at base.’

‘What’s the matter, Emmy?’ Mercury teased. He was doing his third set of sit-ups, and his words rang out clearly and with not a hint of breathlessness. ‘Not feeling the team spirit? Aren’t you proud to be a part of Team CMEN?’

‘It’s pronounced “cinnamon,”’ she snapped. ‘You have no excuse to be doing that too! You’d be a little easier to manage if you took your mind out of the gutter for ten seconds.’

‘Don’t blame me,’ Mercury shot back. ‘It was the big boss lady who entered our initials in that order. What gives?’

‘Consider it a test of your maturity,’ Cinder answered coldly. ‘One you have evidently failed.’ Mercury felt her heated gaze on him, and immediately bottled up the many off-colour jokes he had spent most of the day coming up with. He swallowed nervously as he took a break from his exercises. This was a rather lenient punishment for directly questioning her decisions.

‘Look what we got out of it, though,’ he shrugged. ‘My cinnamon-encrusted sense of humour earned me more than a few chuckles. They like us now, and now we have eight little dopes who’d sell us their mothers if we asked nicely enough.’

‘But only two likely recruits for the Guardians,’ Cinder cut in, reminding them of another one of their purposes. It would be ridiculous to assume that Ozpin was going to do nothing about Amber’s situation, so Cinder surmised that the diminished Maiden would need a new heir, and a new member of his inner circle.

‘I don’t think you’re talking about those two dudes,’ Mercury chuckled. ‘So you think Schnee’s gonna be one of the two? I think she’s more of a winter type myself, but...’

‘No,’ Cinder shook her head. ‘She’s too high-profile. The same can be said for Adam’s erstwhile paramour. In Ozpin’s mind, they will have enough enemies as it is without that responsibility.

‘I also know Yang Xiao Long’s type,’ Cinder continued, smiling with dark mischief. ‘She’s a hot-tempered, irresponsible hedonist. There’s no way Ozpin will trust her with half a Maiden’s powers, and Nora Valkyrie is an idiot, leaving only two...Emerald, bring up what we have on Pyrrha and Ruby.’

‘Of course,’ Emerald nodded. She flicked through the holographic pages of her Scroll for about a minute, until she nodded in satisfaction as she brought up two separate tabs of data. ‘Let’s see...Nikos, Pyrrha A. Born November 26th 981\. Fights with a shield and a sword-spear-musket weapon. Semblance unknown. Graduated from Sanctum Academy at the top of her class with excellent marks in all subjects. Declined a _seriously_ generous scholarship from Haven, and decided she’d go to Beacon instead, paying her tuition out of her not-too-shallow pocket. Maybe she wanted some time out of the spotlight?’

‘An accurate assessment,’ Cinder agreed. ‘During our little conversation, she seemed a little disconcerted at the mention of her fame, and she certainly did not aim to attract attention to herself. Other than that, she’s a prodigy. A paragon. Not a more perfect image for a Guardian or a Maiden. Except...what about Rose?’

‘Rose, Ruby G.,’ Emerald recited. ‘Born April 4th 984\. Fights with a scythe-sniper rifle hybrid. Possesses a physical enhancement-type Semblance that allows her to move at speeds upward of a hundred metres per second. Until she got bumped up two years by Ozpin, she studied at Signal Academy, where she had high grades in Combat Practice, Applied Sciences and Weapons Engineering, but struggled in History, Grimmology and Aura Studies. Looking at this, you’d think she was a normal kid. What the hell is she doing here?’

‘Now that is the question of the hour,’ Cinder nodded. ‘Unbeknownst to her, we’ve met before. Don’t worry, she didn’t see my face. If not for my intervention, it would have been the end of Torchwick’s career, despite his assurances otherwise. Her skill in combat is undeniable, but there has to be another reason why Ozpin wants to keep her so close. Perhaps there’s a factor we’re not picking up on that he has, which makes him consider making her a Guardian or a Maiden?’

‘Of course, we can’t be sure that she’s not a Maiden already,’ Mercury suggested with a shrug. ‘I doubt it, though.’

‘Then there’s only one way to make sure,’ Cinder agreed. ‘We continue our observations. Try to find out Pyrrha’s Semblance if you can. Try to ask more about Ruby and Yang’s childhood; see if we can’t glean something important from it.’

‘Do you expect me to hang around with those unhealthily optimistic blockheads all day?’ Emerald asked irritably. ‘If you listen to them for too long, I think you’ll get diabetes.’

‘Of course I do,’ Cinder answered sharply, and Emerald immediately thought against arguing further when she saw the look on her face. ‘You handle that while I follow Goodwitch and Ironwood to try and determine where they’re holding the Fall Maiden, and I’ll try to find some vulnerability in their system to place the Checkmate Program. So long as we avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves, everything should go just as—’

Cinder’s fate diverged when her Scroll began to ring. Not thinking too much of it, she pulled it out, checked the caller ID, and answered.

‘Good evening, Roman,’ she greeted pleasantly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Yeah, pleasure,’ Torchwick’s voice mumbled on the other end of the line. ‘Listen, I’m just calling ‘cause it’s something that’s gotta be done. We argued over who should actually bite the bullet, but since I was the only one who could hold a conversation—oh, don’t you give me that look, Neo—I figured it had better be me who carried out the grave task of—’

‘Get to the point, Roman,’ she snapped. Torchwick had an impressive set of skills as a negotiator, as a supplier, and as an Aura-user, but none of them came close to his ability to exhaust her patience. Roman chuckled nervously.

‘Yeah, you know that job we sent the Fang out on?’ he asked. ‘The one where they’re supposed to fetch our fancy new toys?’

‘You needn’t fret about that one, Roman,’ Cinder reassured him. This was probably just another one of his complaints about their species’ inborn incompetency. ‘Neo wrote the reassignment, and I lent my own technical skills to add a layer of authenticity. All that’s left is the heavy lifting. Why, the task is so simple—’

‘Even an animal could do it, I got it,’ he cut in impatiently. She heard the hiss of a quick inhalation before he went on. ‘About that. We’ve just...hit a little bit of a roadblock.’

‘A roadblock?’ she asked, her voice growing cold. ‘What kind of roadblock are we discussing?’

‘...An apocalyptic one,’ Roman sighed.

‘Define “apocalyptic,”’ she demanded icily. For Emerald and Mercury, the room had grown unbearably hot in the space of a fingersnap.

‘I’m just gonna come out and say it,’ he relented, his voice reflecting his acceptance of his fate. ‘They’re all dead.’

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes earlier, Musgo Víbora mustered his subordinates and gathered by the mouth of the warehouse.

The alarm ringing on his Scroll sent the White Fang into full alert. Each of his subordinates had a chip embedded into their mask that was fuelled by the barely perceptible Aura of an ordinary person, and all were listed for easy viewing on the little device. Roth’s presence winked out first, followed three minutes later by Isbark. They were either dead, or had for whatever reason removed their masks. Víbora was lenient enough to assume the former.

On his order they fanned out. He stood with four, while eight were sent to wait by the main door, the remaining rifles at the ready. Two groups of three stalked around the corners of the building in an attempt to cover the exits, while Rame had scaled one of the towers of containers, eager to use his rocket launcher to blow away any intruders. Satisfied with their formations, Víbora drew in a deep breath with his mighty lungs, and called forth in a voice fit to speak to improvised arenas.

‘Whoever you are, come on out!’ he shouted, his deep voice rumbling through the air into the warehouse. This is your first and only warning! Show yourself, or we torch the building and smoke you out!’ He made a lazy circle with his finger, and on his signal the eight by the door began to slowly move forward. He almost pitied the humans. A couple of dockworkers showed up to work when they weren’t supposed to might have been able to neutralise two recruits, but they could never be prepared for a force this large and this well-organised. All he had to do now was wait, and see what paltry resistance they could come up with.

He didn’t have to wait long. One of the recruits crept forward, her rifle trembling as her sliding foot crossed the threshold. He blinked, and then saw her head fly off her shoulders, trailing a scarlet ribbon. The White Fang looked on in astonishment at the shade that remained in place among them for only a heartbeat before it vanished again. A blur in the dark and a flash of steel, and a man went down screaming, clutching at the stump of his bifurcated thigh. By the time he hit the ground, the phantom was still again, its sword protruding from a man’s neck, holding him aloft as his limbs twitched. Its arm became a blur that now levelled a pistol in its free hand. Three shots, and three fell, three holes punched into their visors.

Only now did they have the presence of mind to fight back. Roaring in equal parts rage and horror, Víbora’s party of four charged forward, swords raised and pistols spitting bullets. Rifles roared amongst the remains of the advance party, and the exit patrols joined the fray soon after, having heard the commotion. It helped little. The intruder danced amongst the Fang, their blade singing as it spun in an impossible to follow rhythm driven by the percussion of the bullets they deflected. The interloper moved faster than the wind, never in one place for longer than the span of a heartbeat. The lieutenant tried to follow the blurry shade in vain, and every time his eyes moved, they chose their next victim, letting his gaze linger on a slashed throat, a severed arm, a man lying face down clutching at his spilt bowels. Between every swing of the viscous blade, a shot rang out, and each one was true, catching a fighter in their head or neck. The melee was a maelstrom of screaming and gunfire, and before long the air was thick with the stench of blood and Dust. It was a scent that Víbora knew well, and it was one he had grown accustomed to after more than four years of constant fighting, but this was not combat. This creature, whoever they were, was a walking calamity. Men and women died as they fell, and an unlucky few screamed their last as they attempted futilely to stem hideous wounds. The intruder’s dark coat was not marred by a single drop of blood in its wearer’s grisly dance. The lieutenant summoned his willpower to move a single step forward, but found the he could not. Musgo Víbora promised the Fang that he would proudly give his life for the cause, that if his death could further the crusade to end human rule then he would face the Gods with a clear conscience. But as the last man drew his last breath, a blade driven into his side beneath his armpit, the lieutenant began to entertain second thoughts. Death in a battle for a great cause was one thing, but certain annihilation was another.

‘Hey, humie!’ cried a voice from the top of the stack. Rame had perched himself at the precipice of the container, aiming his rocket launcher down at the interloper, his entire frame quivering with rage. ‘I was waiting till I had a clear shot, but I guess I don’t have to worry about hurting my buddies anymore! I’ll make you pay for this! You’ll be nice and toasty!’

‘So will you,’ the intruder responded. At this point, Víbora finally realised that the interloper was a woman, and began to think of all the ways he could make her suffer. ‘Are you mad? There’s unspent ammunition all over the floor and Dust in those crates. You’ll kill us all!’

‘A little late to be making your case,’ Rame hissed, and from the ground Víbora heard the soft beep of the bazooka locking its target. ‘See you in the Abyss, you old bitch!’

The missile screamed through the air, directly onto the woman’s head. Just a moment before the rocket struck home, the lieutenant though he saw a flash of white beneath her hood. A mighty blast of flame burst out in an oddly flat wheel of light, and a second later it became apparent why. A disc of white light floated before her, lingering only for a second before it faded away like moonlight come dawn.

‘Almost tickled,’ she mused, raising her pistol and firing into the air. Up above, Rame’s hands went to his throat as he began to choke, stumbling backwards until he slipped on the edge. Two seconds later, Víbora heard something heavy crack against the asphalt on the other side of the tower of containers. It was just she and he now. He summoned the rage that had carried him thus far and smothered his fear with it.

‘I do not fear you, human,’ he declared fiercely, drawing his weapon from his back. The device resembled a longsword in the most superficial of ways, composing of a compact engine that could theoretically be called a cross-guard, a hilt like the handlebar of a motorcycle, and a metre-long blade that was nothing more than the guiding bar of a chainsaw. He twisted the hilt, and the contraption roared as chisel-like teeth raced around its circumference.

‘That your weapon?’ the intruder asked, nonchalantly glancing at the empty pistol. She tossed it aside, quickly passed the sword into her left hand, and with her right she drew a short dagger from her belt. ‘I borrowed these. I keep mine at home. It’s bigger.’

‘We’ll see if you’re still in the mood for jokes by the time I’m through with you,’ he hissed, pointing a fist in acceptance of her challenge.

Then they rushed one another. The approached at roughly the same speed, the intruder not displaying that unnatural agility she had moved at before. Then came the moment when their weapons struck, her sword screaming against the teeth of the saw. They broke off the struggle quickly, and the human began to strafe around him. He moved his feet dextrously, rotating fast enough to keep his eyes on her as he waved his saw in short, controlled arcs, batting away her strikes with brutal finesse. He lashed out with a low kick, forcing her to hop backwards. His ploy worked, and he immediately segued into a scything sweep aimed at her neck. Left with no other choice, the human crushed the flat of the blade against the screaming teeth, reinforcing it with her right arm. The cheap, poorly-balanced metal was no match for the Dust-tempered alloy, and snapped in two after only a second of sparking resistance. The blow knocked her to the ground, and Víbora could tell immediately that she was not wounded, but lost a sizeable portion of her Aura. He watched as she clambered to her feet, pressing a hand against the belly where she was struck. The impact had knocked her hood down, exposing her greying dark hair and scarred face, and eyes that brimmed with confidence.

‘I think I’ve got a handle on your style,’ she noted. She bent her knees and set her feet wide apart, going into a low stance as she raised her free hand behind her and her dagger close. ‘Just so you know, that was the last time you’ll ever touch me.’

‘Very well,’ he nodded, revving the engine and eliciting another beastly growl from the saw. ‘You won’t be so confident after I slice off your arms and—’

He did not get to say what had planned after that, his voice trailing off into a wheeze as she blinked forward and smashed an elbow into his trunk, just beneath his ribs. He brought up his saw just in time to parry the knife that was closing in on his neck. The woman turned with the strike, her leg shooting out with a blur to smash into the side of his knee.

 _This speed must be her Semblance_ , he observed, unable to stop himself from falling on one knee. _She’s using it on one limb at a time in order to make up for her lack of strength._

Before he could make any more inferences, the woman spun in place with that same inhuman velocity, then her foot lashed out and smashed him in the jaw, sending him reeling onto his free hand for support and knocking his mask away. He slowly rose to his feet, glaring at her with sickly yellow eyes.

‘We end this,’ he hissed, a forked tongue flicking between his bared teeth. ‘Right now!’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ she replied, and then she was gone. Serpentine eyes sought her out, but his only rewards were a fist in the left cheek a rush of wind going to the right. He had just enough time to turn around before he felt the knife scratch against his Aura. She moved faster than his eyes could follow, nothing more than a gust in the darkness, and before he could process one blow he was struck by the next. A punch to the back of the knee, a high kick in the shoulder blade, a slice to the side, and each time she was gone before he could retaliate. All the time, her movement seemed to grow faster, the hits ever more frequent, and his Aura reserves growing dangerously low. Howling in outrage, he swung his saw in a wide desperate in the direction of the sound of blustering wind.

He could not stop his swing when he realised that his victim was not a human. He saw a cheap black hooded jacket, floating in the air for only a split second before he made contact. The saw shredded the clothing almost instantly, and Víbora’s heart sank when he heard an unpleasant sputtering from his weapon. The saw shuddered and popped as if it were choking, smoke was hissing from the engine-hilt, and the teeth were almost motionless, occasionally starting forward like a nervous twitch before being impeded by the tightly woven fabric gumming up the machine. He was all but defenceless. Something whizzed up from behind him, sweeping away both his legs and sending him into freefall. While he was still in the air, the human cancelled her momentum by leaping off one foot, sending her soaring over him. Their eyes met, and that’s when he finally accepted it, and realised what she was. He was outclassed. As gifted in combat as he was, he was only sent for safekeeping. No one was supposed to be here, and if there were people who resisted, they weren’t supposed to be Aura-users, let alone Huntresses.

The Huntress flipped forward and drove her heel into his chest, smashing him into the floor and shattering his Aura. She stood over him as he tried to catch his breath, her bare arms exposed by her white vest. Her gaze held no emotion as she knelt down and pressed the knife against his throat.

‘Where is Cinder Fall?’ she asked. He saw no room for argument in those dead eyes. He chuckled despite the pain in his ribs.

‘I won’t tell you anything,’ he grunted, smiling through the pain. ‘I won’t give you anything that will give you any satisfaction. Unless you want my life, that is.’

The Huntress’ cold eyes narrowed at that.

‘So be it.’

In a lightning fast motion, she plunged the blade into his neck and jerked it out with a fluidity brought by years of experience. Musgo Víbora’s last lucid thoughts were of how he would greet his fallen brothers and sisters, satisfied that he never gave in to the humans, right to the last.

 

The fact that he gave her nothing was not what bothered the nameless Huntress.

She was not even bothered by how eerily well he accepted his demise. Like most of his brethren in the White Fang, this man was a fanatic, and fanatics were things she spent most of her life fighting. The only thing they would give to a perceived enemy was death, for either party, at the expense of all reason.

What bothered the Huntress was how readily she had dealt the death he desired. She thought back to a younger woman, still called Ruby Rose, and imagined how she would deal with it. She would beg, plead him for answers, and who knows, maybe she would get something out of him. In return she would spare his life, only for him to strike as soon as her back was turned, for her to cut him down before he could take a single step. It was a scenario that had repeated so many times, it was tiresome.

She looked back, regarding the ocean of blood and the still, pale islands of guns and bodies, feeling her energy drain away at the sight. Such massacres were not uncommon during her time, and often she was at the very centre amongst victimised fanatics who thought they could defeat the Crimson Widow. Her first slaughter, only a few years after the fall of Beacon, left her physically sick for days, bedridden with feverish sobs and mumbled prayers. Later on, when the bodies began to fall more rapidly, she began to accept it as unavoidable aspect of war, functioning despite how it horrified her. At some point she had even begun to enjoy it, but firm guidance and self-imposed discipline stopped her decline in empathy, allowing her to succeed where so many once-noble warriors failed. Now, the necessity of taking so many lives at once simply exhausted her.

A blinding light flashed from above, and the Huntress placed a hand over her eyes as she looked up. Two Bullheads cast their spotlights down on her, their engines becoming loud enough to notice as they reached closer to the ground.

‘These must be equipped with stealth technology,’ she guessed, thinking of no other reason why she could not see or hear them until now. The first one landed right in front of her, and more light spilled forth as the landing ramp went down.

‘I don’t think you’re the police,’ she joked, addressing the figure that emerged from the light and began to step down.

‘You know why I’m here,’ the man replied seriously. He carried the air of authority as he stepped out of the harsh light and into the shadows where she could actually see, and it was that more than his face that made her remember who he was.

‘After all, you must have been expecting one of us,’ explained General James Ironwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Musgo Vibora AKA Banesaw. Never got to kill a Schnee.
> 
> Anyway, I managed to get this chapter up just in time to watch most of my ideas for this fic go straight into AU territory. Who knows, they might give the big guy and actual name and personality! (or they'll probably just throw in a twist that completely blows us away and totally derails all my plot bunnies, or something like that.
> 
> Tune in next [TIME ESTIMATE UNAVAILABLE] where we get more exposition on Old Roob's shitty future.
> 
> Colour Glossary:  
> Roth is German for 'red.'  
> Kurosuna is Japanese for 'black sand.'  
> Musgo Vibora is Spanish for 'moss viper.'  
> Zabi is Arabic for 'antelope.' The colour's probably in their first name.  
> Ouro is Portuguese for 'gold.'  
> Rame is Italian for 'copper.'  
> Portocale is Romanian for 'orange.'  
> ...Do I really need to explain Silverman?


	4. IV

** IV **

**_An Impromptu Recruitment_ **

**_An Emergency Change of Plan_ **

**_The Dark See_ **

****

The Huntress had been considering sleeping arrangements as part of her plan for navigating this timeline, but the holding cell of Ironwood’s flagship had been the last thing on her mind.

Four blank walls closed in on her in a two metre cube, sparse of facilities save for a bench, a sink and a small toilet. One of the walls was a sliding door, fitted with a closed viewing slot and made from a specialised Aura-dampening alloy. Even if the ceiling, floor, and walls did not drain her of power, the cell was still strong enough to withstand kinetic forces up to the equivalent of up to fifty kilograms of fire Dust. She was not leaving this cell unless Ironwood wished it, and she hoped he was as even-handed as she remembered.

She had been in this cell for two hours, by her estimation. As soon as Ironwood touched the ground his men immediately arrested her without resistance, quickly ferried to the flagship and then tossed in this cell without so much as a word exchanged. If she recalled Atlesian procedure correctly, then the soldiers were likely analysing the circumstances of the attack, debriefing one another, and ultimately trying to decide what questions they should ask the prisoner. She knew the process was a lengthy one, but the sheer length of time was mostly an intimidation tactic, using isolation to make a suspect more pliable. It was pointless against her, for she knew that if all was well, she would have nothing to fear from these men. Uttering a sigh, she clasped her hands and bowed her head, and tried to lift the burden on her mind the best way she knew how.

She did not have to wait much longer. The door recessed down into the floor like a blinking eyelid with a quiet hiss, and the general stood at attention by the threshold.

‘I doubt I’m going to order anything drastic,’ he began by reassuring her, noting her clasped hands. ‘I don’t think pleas towards the heavens will be necessary just yet.’

‘It’s past midnight, by my reckoning,’ the Huntress responded, unclasping her hands and raising her head. ‘That means it’s Sunday. I just thought that I might not have time to visit the temple this morning.’

‘And you wouldn’t be wrong,’ he answered. The Huntress craned her neck to look past him, seeing nothing aside from his bulky figure, a row of similar cells, and a lack of military presence. It seemed that the two of them were alone in this corridor. ‘You know, my intelligence specialists are interested in knowing how you knew the White Fang would show up at that warehouse, why you decided to intervene and what you hoped to achieve. I think I can cover all those bases by asking about this.’

He pulled his Scroll from out of his pocket, searched its contents and pressed something on the translucent screen, turning its display towards the Huntress.

‘Thank you for calling the emergency hotline,’ greeted a female voice from the Scroll, displaying the telltale waveform of an audio file. ‘What’s your emergency?’

‘We need cops at the Number Six warehouse at the south-western port,’ urged the voice of Lucille Portocale, calm yet forceful from prior experience with emergencies. ‘Robbery in progress. Suspects are armed and dangerous.’

‘Understood, ma’am,’ the transponder replied. ‘Units are being dispatched. Would you like a patrol car to pick you up and take you to safety?’

‘No,’ said the security guard. ‘Also, I was told to say this was a problem for the Guardians.’

‘Excuse me?’ the transponder asked in confusion. ‘I didn’t quite catch that. What are the Guardians, exactly?’

‘I don’t know,’ Lucille admitted. ‘I was told to say it. I don’t know why, but I thought it was a good idea to—’

Ironwood folded away the Scroll, cutting off the recording. ‘I’m going to be frank. You clearly know I have loyalties other than the Atlesian Brass. Of course, neither the caller nor the transponder knew who we were, but you know we have people listening in on emergency communications who let us know if they hear anything they think we should know about, and a direct name drop ranks pretty damn high on that list. “Audacious” doesn’t even begin to describe it. You placed our careers in jeopardy, not to mention your own life. Now what would give you that idea? Not in the interests of gathering intelligence, but out of genuine curiosity.’

‘Well, I’ll respond to your curiosity with honesty,’ the Huntress shrugged. ‘I simply couldn’t think of any other way.’ She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips tight. ‘I need to speak to Ozpin. Desperately.’

‘Your desperation is perfectly clear,’ Ironwood replied, his tone clipped and deliberate. ‘You killed more than twenty people just for a chance to speak with one of us. That includes Víbora, who had quite the price on his head, and not just for the authority he held. That also makes me desperate. It makes me wonder what sort of person I’m dealing with, raises questions that I want answered before I take you anywhere near Beacon, and I think I’ll start with one of the questions my subordinates would like to ask. How did you know when and where the heist was taking place?’

‘I got lucky,’ she admitted. ‘I identified a member of the White Fang and followed him until he tried to cause trouble. It must be providence that I came across something on such a large scale, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘That remains to be seen,’ Ironwood nodded. ‘Why did you fight them, seeing as your intervention was premeditated? Do you know how many Huntsmen fight off a White Fang attack solely because it gives them a good excuse to kill a few Faunus?’

‘Because we both know that they’re the muscle behind the real threat,’ the Huntress answered. ‘I assumed that if I came upon Fang hideouts and missions long enough, I would find our mutual enemies.’

‘So claim to know who we’re fighting?’ Ironwood raised an eyebrow. ‘But I think I’d rather know more about you. What’s your name?’

‘I don’t have one,’ the Huntress answered, looking down at the floor. Ironwood merely chuckled.

‘We’ve had people try to play that game before. After a long enough session of questioning, they all begin to find it just as tiresome as I do.’

‘We don’t have to play,’ she countered. ‘Just take me to Ozpin. If anyone can at least make sense of my situation, he can.’

‘I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re in no position to be making demands,’ he warned, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. ‘You’ll be answering my questions, one way or the other.’

‘There are other ways to answer questions?’ asked a voice from the near end of the corridor. Ironwood nearly jumped out of his boots, while the Huntress tried her best to stifle her gasp. Ironwood rounded on the source of the question, his surprise fading into stern annoyance.

‘Penny, why aren’t you in your quarters?’ he asked pointedly, his eyes narrow as the girl in question innocently approached him. The Huntress wrought in her emotions, a skill practiced in battlefield diplomacy and deadly negotiations, and slapped on a mask of feigned curiosity as she came into view.

‘I’ve been rested and I’m ready for duty,’ Penny answered, oblivious to the meaning of the question as she saluted eagerly. ‘I was wandering the ship to see if anyone needed my help, but everyone’s turned me down so far. One of them even suggested I do something biologically impossible, since humans don’t reproduce asexually and therefore cannot copulate with themselves. That just leaves you, General Ironwood, sir! What are you doing? Do you require assistance?’

‘Penny, I’m in the middle of an interrogation,’ the general informed the girl, as patiently as he could. ‘I would like to keep this confidential. If you want to help, you can do that by giving me some privacy.’

‘I see,’ the girl nodded in understanding. Just when Ironwood thought he had avoided the headache, she took note of the Huntress within the cell. ‘Oh, who’s this?’

‘That’s the suspect I’m currently interrogating,’ the general cut in forcefully, moving to pull her away. ‘Let me handle this. Just go back to your room and—’

‘Is that...?’ Penny squinted at the Huntress, as if trying to compare the woman in the cell to things she had already seen. ‘Is that...Ruby?’

‘Ruby?’ Ironwood raised an eyebrow in surprise.

‘I have no idea what she means,’ the Huntress lied. Her current situation did not need to get any more complicated. Heedless of the general’s warnings, Penny scooted forth so that she was directly in front of the cell. Her neon-green eyes emitted a cold glow as they scanned over every inch of the Huntress.

‘Analysing genetic composition...’ she intoned mechanically, her face devoid of any expression. ‘Cross-referencing with all known databases...Confirmed.’ What the Huntress knew to be a small gynoid blinked twice, and her eyes regained their warmth as a satisfied smirk crept on her face.

‘There’s no doubt about it,’ Penny announced, glad to have a performed a service no one asked for. ‘Your name is Ruby Gardenia Rose. Human. Date of birth April 4th 984\. Aura production alleles lend themselves to a physical enhancement-type Semblance. Paternal ancestry implies at least six generations of descent from the Isle of Patch. Maternal ancestry...inconclusive. No criminal record, though you may have a slight-to-moderate risk of osteoporosis and liver cancer.

‘But...you can’t be Ruby,’ Penny finally concluded, uncertain in how she held herself. ‘I know Ruby. She’s my friend. You look a lot like her, you even have the same DNA, but you can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.’ The Huntress looked into Penny’s worried eyes, wearing a melancholy smile as she looked up the general, pale with ghastly incredulity.

‘I guess there’s no point in hiding it now,’ she sighed. For the first time since entering the cell, the Huntress drew herself up to her full height, looking up at the man who was still head and shoulders taller. ‘I am Ruby Rose, and in a manner of speaking, I am also a Guardian.’

‘I’m sorry, Ruby, but just like Penny, I’m also having a little trouble believing this,’ the general replied sceptically. ‘Penny tells me that Ruby Rose is a student at Beacon, not a woman my age, and if there were any Guardians of that name, I would definitely know.’

‘Very well,’ Ruby shrugged, and then looked at him with a look of utmost seriousness. ‘What if I told you I came from the future?’

‘Speaking frankly, if you told me something like that, I would tell you I thought it was ridiculous,’ he snapped. He remained still looking between the girl and the Huntress. ‘But then I would add up what had already been proven. I would realise that certain aspects of this story would only make sense if I believe you.’ With that, he retrieved a small, aluminium flask from his inner breast pocket. ‘And then I would have a stiff drink.’

‘And you would be well within your rights,’ the Huntress conceded, smiling wryly. ‘Though I realise I’m in no position to ask anything, I think I might need that a little more than you do.’ The general smirked, and held the flask to the threshold.

‘Be my guest.’

 

* * *

 

Adam Taurus stormed his way through the doors of the appropriated warehouse, and not a single White Fang soldier dared to stand in his way.

For these grunts, the ability to determine his mood had become a sign of seniority. Fresh recruits would make the assumption that he was angry all the time and avoided him wherever they could, but experienced warriors knew when to approach him.  They knew that the righteous fury that guided him was not unlike a powerful spirit: a substance that burned and choked the throats of the uninitiated, but those who were accustomed to it could sense its subtleties and appreciate it. Lieutenants and sergeants knew that his stern debriefings after a successful mission did not mean he was not proud, and his furious tirades at failures were a bittersweet perfume to mask his grief. However, even they knew not to speak as he climbed the metal stairs at the side of the main hall. From how tightly he gripped his sheathed blade and to how tensely he moved, it was clear that his only thoughts were of blood.

The stairs took him to a short hallway which led into a small office. The three metre cube room was filled with cardboard boxes piled up in one corner, a small desk with a whiteboard in another corner, and a more ornate desk in front of a large window, allowing whoever sat at it to simply turn around to see the layout of the warehouse. Perched elegantly on the boxes was the assassin, whose mismatched eyes did change not at all as he barged in, and behind the desk sat the object of his wrath.

‘You!’ he snarled, pointing a finger at the human to avoid the temptation of drawing his sword.

‘Yes, me,’ Roman Torchwick sighed, rolling his eyes as he tapped his cigar free of cinders. ‘They weren’t kidding when they said you’d get here quick. Barely even three hours. Is it really that boring out in the southeast? Or maybe you just needed to talk to me about your girl problems?’

‘You know full well why I’m here,’ Adam hissed, keeping his movements controlled and still, even as he seethed.

‘I understand, Adam,’ Roman leaned forward, wearing that blasted grin as per usual. ‘I really do. We’ve all had bad breakups. What you need to do is _unwind_. See, I know this nice lady who runs a very _friendly_ little house. If you want, I can talk to her and cut you a deal, maybe even get her to think about taking down that “No Faunus” sign hanging in her front wind—’

‘This is on you!’ Adam thundered, crimson lights flickering around the decorations of his mask. ‘You promised us weapons, Torchwick; Atlas’ latest inventions turned against them. Instead, we lost Musgo and twenty-four rookies. Twenty-five Faunus we sent, and not one of them came back!’

‘Thank you Adam, I can count too,’ Torchwick responded coolly, taking one last inhalation before grinding the cigar into the ashtray. ‘And don’t blame me for this. Blame whoever was there, given that they like chopping people into little pieces just as much as you do. What matters now is what we do next. Besides, who needs some toys from Atlas to cause your patented brand of mayhem?’

‘The Paladins were not the most important part of the mission,’ someone stated from just outside the room, the voice smooth, silky and severe. Cinder stepped into the room purposefully, ignoring Adam and Neo as she approached Roman’s desk, wisps of golden light spilling from her narrowed eyes.

‘It wasn’t so much the prize that made this mission so important, but what the prize represented,’ she explained, her eyes burning through Roman’s mind as if they threatened to do the same to his body. ‘With the Paladins in their possession, the White Fang would find reason to trust humans to lead them. It would have provided them with the morale to do what we expect of them in the future. That is why I formulated the plan the way I have. That’s also why I’ve summoned Mr. Taurus, as he’s now the only one who can calm things down around here.

‘Now do you see the importance of those “toys,” Roman?’ Cinder hissed. Her fist slammed against the mahogany and acrid smoke hissed from the point of impact. ‘It was a simple task. The only thing I trusted you to do was to not cock it up!’ At the sound of her raised voice, Roman reeled back in his chair with a yelp, Neo flinched on her perch, and Adam took a measured step back.

‘Alright then, Fall,’ Adam shrugged. ‘Your plan was a bust. What now?’ With that question, Neo hopped down from the pile of boxes, tapping away on her Scroll. Nodding silently, she folded out the device to its maximum size and displayed the screen to the rest.

**[First thing we need to do is figure out the intel we got on this stab-happy bitch.]**

‘Metaphors about pots and kettles aside, she’s got the right idea,’ Roman acquiesced, casting a cheeky eye to the small enforcer. ‘Well, show them what you’ve got, gorgeous.’ Neo smirked as she typed out another message on her Scroll.

**[First of all, Adam _can’t_ count. We have three survivors, who were apparently assigned to guard the boat and then ran once they realised they were fucked. Two of them, Jinan Zabi and Rolando Ouro, went back to base and told us what they knew. They’ve already been debriefed.]**

Roman smirked as he read the last word, placing two fingers to his temple and making a loud popping sound with his lips. Adam chose to ignore him as Neo typed the next message.

**[We grilled them, but all they knew was that our saboteur was a woman, and that she worked alone. The third survivor, Hideki Kurosuna, has gone into hiding. And last but not least, we’ve just got our late lieutenant’s audio logs.]**

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Roman yelled impatiently. ‘Let’s hear them!’

Neo nodded, flipping through numerous screens until she brought up the relevant files. She turned up the volume, and all present listened attentively to the sounds of battle blasting through the speakers. Roman resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the self-righteous twaddle they were lobbing at each other, while Adam did his best to decipher any of the enemy’s abilities and strategies, compartmentalising his pride for his friend’s valiant final stand. Cinder made no value judgements on the content of the log, coldly analysing every crash, every scream of teeth against metal, until she heard a rough impact, and the final question.

‘Where is Cinder Fall?’

Every head in the room turned towards her, but Cinder paid no attention to Roman’s worried look, Neo’s amused interest or Adam’s inscrutable scowl. She stood stock still, eyes wide as Neo put away the Scroll.

‘Oh...shit,’ she whispered as she released her breath. Thinking quickly, Cinder pulled out her own Scroll and began to sort through its data as fast as her trembling fingers allowed. ‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...’

‘So,’ Roman opened, drumming his fingers on the desk, ‘I’m guessing name drops don’t do anything for you? I mean, people try to hunt me down all the time. It’s an occupational hazard.’

‘Do you realise how significant this is, you idiot?’ Cinder snapped. ‘My presence and intentions were supposed to be a secret. Our mutual enemies have no idea who I am; my entire plan hinged on that! But someone out there knows my name and is looking for me, and we have no idea what her allegiances or motives are. This puts everything in danger!’

‘So this what it takes to you less than fully sure of yourself?’ Adam asked, the smallest of grins appearing on his face. ‘So what do you plan to do about it?’

Cinder pointed at Roman, standing with the authority she used to have. ‘You will carry on with your work as usual. Adam, I want you to maintain order and lead the Fang contingent. Neo, I want you to take some Fang agents into the city and find our runaway. Find out everything you can about our mystery woman, by any means necessary.

‘As for me,’ Cinder sighed, staring in resignation at her Scroll. ‘I will have to call on some outside assistance.’

 

* * *

 

To say that Professor Ozpin never slept was something of an exaggeration. True, he was the only member of faculty to not have his own bedroom, and those who wondered about the campus at night could cross paths with him at the smallest of hours, and standard keystroke-logging software packages implied that he spent an average of twenty-two hours a day at his terminal. No one at Beacon could recall an instance when he had let down his guard, when his vigilance over the academy was ever less than perfect, but even the most ever-watchful of eyes must blink.

It may have been accurate to say that Ozpin never slept, but his body was currently in the closest state it could be to slumber. Ozpin leaned forward with his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on top of his interlocked fingers, as if waiting for something to disturb him from this state. It was a like a form of meditation in which he kept only the most tenuous of connections with the world around him, analysing his past, present and future, his successes and his failures. To a normal person, it could best be described as being on the threshold of sleep and waking, in which the passage of time becomes difficult to discern, in which one could recall the things they imagined more clearly than what they saw. True dreams were a thing that Ozpin had long forgotten.

The beep of a notification brought Ozpin back to full awareness immediately. After seeing the message blinking on his terminal, he tapped a button and leaned towards the microphone.

‘Good morning, General,’ he greeted cordially. ‘I doubt you’re making a social call if you’re paging me at this hour.’

‘You’ve got that much right,’ Ironwood said gravely. A second message flared on his screen, notifying him that someone had signalled the elevator to take them to his office. ‘We’re on our way right now. The situation is a little...ambiguous, so it’s best if you saw it for yourself.’

Ozpin closed the communication channel and waited for the elevator to reach its destination, reclining his chair and staring sagely at the door. When the indicator pinged and the doors slid open, he had expected to see the general, but not a second pair of silver eyes. He was surprised, naturally, but his heart did not skip a bit, nor did his outward demeanour change. He had been doing this for so long that even grave surprise rarely took him off guard. Long enough to have seen the impossible and sometimes even be responsible for it.

‘You’re looking well for a ghost, Mrs. Rose,’ he welcomed her, his tone and posture belying only a measure of interest. ‘You’re not the first person I’ve seen come back from the dead. Have you told Taiyang the good news?’

‘I’m afraid I have no good news in that regard,’ the woman replied as she stepped into his office. ‘Summer Rose departed for her last mission on the morning of 31st August 988, and never returned. I was only four years old at the time.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m having a little trouble following,’ Ozpin held up a hand to stop her, and then motioning her and Ironwood to take a seat. ‘You claim to have been a small child during events that transpired a little less than eleven years ago. I don’t mean this in a rude way, but the numbers don’t exactly add up, do they, Ruby?’

‘Then you’ve already figured out who I am?’ the Huntress asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she slowly lowered herself into her seat.

‘All I know is that the dates would be more consistent with the Ruby Rose I know,’ Ozpin answered noncommittally. ‘Thank you for confirming that this was your name as well.’

‘I don’t have a name,’ the Huntress answered forcefully. Ozpin slowly leaned back, not at all shocked by her outburst, while Ironwood shrugged in resignation.

‘She refuses to be called by that name for whatever reason,’ he explained.

‘You already mentioned there was a Ruby in this school,’ she reminded Ozpin. ‘I don’t want to get her involved in my troubles.’

‘That’s putting it lightly,’ Ironwood said. ‘You took apart an entire company of White Fang troopers single-handed.’

‘It was nothing,’ the Huntress shrugged. ‘They were rookies who barely knew how to hold their weapons, only one Aura-user among them. You could have done it in your sleep, General. Isn’t that a requirement for joining the Guardians?’

‘That is true,’ Ozpin nodded. ‘But it’s not the only one. To become a Guardian is to take on a responsibility with an almost limitless weight. We work not just for the stability of our society, but for the continued existence of mankind, so we cannot select our initiates on fighting skill alone, as important as it is. So tell us, Huntress. Who exactly are you? Why should we trust you with this burden?’

During the flight to Beacon, Ironwood had elected not to ask the Huntress any questions about her temporal status, simply rushing to the Tower to hear Ozpin’s take on the matter. The silence gave her time to gather her memories, parsing through over thirty years of memories to answer his questions as best she could. She thought especially hard about how the questioning may have begun, and eventually, she simply decided to start from the beginning.

‘You were right before,’ she answered. ‘My name is, or was, Ruby Rose. I am, as I briefly explained to the general, from the future. About thirty years.’

‘That’s quite a bold claim,’ Ozpin commented, not surprised in the least. ‘Travelling through time usually is. Even if I believed you, how would something like that be possible?’

‘Through the power of the Silver Eye and the Maidens,’ the Huntress revealed, cutting right to the chase. ‘All four of those powers. That makes for some powerful magic, and anything is possible at that point.’

‘So all four Maidens were present when you went back in time?’ Ironwood cut in. ‘The situation must have been dire if that had come to pass.’

‘In a way,’ she went on. ‘Though it’s true, the situation Remnant found itself in was more desperate than any era that had preceded it.’

‘How so?’ Ozpin asked, leaning forward as his deep eyes searched her.

‘There was only one Maiden there when I went back,’ she told him. ‘The spirits of the Four Maidens all in one host.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Ozpin replied reflexively. He blinked, and his eyes narrowed as he searched his memories. ‘Unless...’

‘Amber...’ the general whispered, giving voice to Ozpin’s deduction. He turned in his seat to face the Huntress, eyes wide and voice strained. ‘You have to tell us more. We have a situation on our hands, and what we need now more than anything is answers. Who did this? How did they do it?’

‘Slow down, James,’ Ozpin reassured him. As Ironwood simmered down, Ozpin caught her eye and began to explain. ‘Allow me to clarify. The current Fall Maiden, Amber, was assaulted a few months ago. She remains in critical condition, and most worryingly, it seems that her magical abilities have been halved, as if the assailant stole them from her very soul. The situation really is as desperate as Ironwood implies, so if you can shed any light on our assailant, we would be grateful.’

‘And grateful you will be,’ The Huntress nodded. ‘You culprit’s name is Cinder Fall, and that sounds like her M.O.’

‘Really?’ Ozpin asked, craning his neck in interest. ‘Tell us more. Her methods, her motivations.’

‘I can’t tell you anything about her history, sadly,’ she confessed, frantically combing her mind for anything that would come in useful. ‘She changes identities like she changes clothes. I doubt Cinder is her real name. I doubt she even remembers what it is. I don’t know much more about her trick with the Maidens. I’ve never seen her do it myself, but I’ve heard rumours. I heard stories about how she was able to “wear the Grimm like a glove,” whatever that means, and steal away their very spirits. Sounds like something out of an old myth, but in my time and in your profession, you never know.’

‘Rumours were spreading around this time?’ Ironwood asked. ‘She does this again?’ Ozpin said nothing as he considered what she had said before.

‘I already told you she had all four,’ the Huntress reminded him. ‘But yes, Cinder gains the full power of the Fall Maiden following Amber’s death.’

‘We’re already thinking of alternative solutions to prevent that from happening,’ Ozpin responded, a serious look on his face. ‘I’m assuming they failed, of course.’

‘She planned for those failures very carefully,’ she assured him. ‘She’s already infiltrated the school, and she’s planning to disrupt the Vytal Festival.’

‘She already here?’ the general reeled back in astonishment. ‘We need to search the transfer student dorms immediately and—’

‘You can go ahead and try,’ Ruby interrupted coldly. ‘Cinder and her associates have eyes and ears all over the city. If they have any reason to believe that their cover’s been blown, they will go to ground, and my actions lately have been less than subtle. It would be safe to assume that they’re already long gone.’

‘And besides, James, we don’t need your troops kicking down doors and scaring them off if they’re still here,’ Ozpin added, smirking in understanding as Ironwood averted his eyes. ‘I’ll ask Glynda to a little prodding here and there. In the meantime, Huntress, tell us more about Cinder. How did she disrupt the festival? What happened afterwards?’

‘She sabotaged the tournament,’ she began. ‘One of her followers, Emerald Sustrai, possesses an illusion-type Semblance that induces hallucinations. The finalists began to display acts of brutality in what they were led to believe was self-defence. When one of the finalists died, she somehow hijacked the broadcasts, and revealed the existence of the Guardians.’

‘What?’ Ironwood exclaimed, raising an eyebrow in time with his voice. ‘That’s bold even for someone who’d attack a Maiden.’

‘She didn’t reveal the existence of the Maidens,’ she clarified. ‘She merely told the public that the leadership of the four Hunting Academies held more authority than most governments, and that they made history-altering decisions with complete opacity and no accountability. You can imagine the panic that caused.’

‘Of course,’ Ozpin gasped, eyes opening wide in comprehension. ‘You mean...’

‘The sheer volume of negativity created by that debacle caused a Grimm swarm the size of which I wouldn’t see again for twenty years,’ she went on. ‘In the confusion, Cinder slipped into the school, which was under siege by the White Fang, and finished off Amber. And after fighting you to escape with the power, she had some giant Grimm knock over the tower. Total communications blackout.’

‘By the Gods,’ Ironwood gasped. The Guardians had considered every angle, prepared every countermeasure they could think of to protect Amber from her assailant, yet from the sound of this story, it looked as though they had been played like well-strung fiddles.

‘Cinder is willing to use every tool at her disposal to further her goals,’ she went on. ‘Even if she abandoned Beacon, she’s likely trying to arrange things to strike at a different angle. She uses the strengths of her enemies as leverage to defeat them, such as the Guardian’s secrecy. And she’s just as dangerous on the battlefield, even before becoming a Maiden. You lost that fight, Ozpin. No one ever saw you again.’

Ozpin’s response was not immediate. He simply leaned back, closed his eyes, netted his fingers tightly and inhaled sharply. When he opened his eyes, he looked at the Huntress with a serious look.

‘Why?’ he asked, simply and tersely. ‘What would she have to gain from this madness?’

‘For years, I assumed she just wanted power,’ she admitted. ‘She and I crossed weapons often, but she rarely said anything substantial, just boast about her power and offer promises of ruination to the Four Kingdoms. It was only when her power become a little more official that we gained more insight.

‘In the year 1014, she crafted a new public identity under the name “Maiden Triad,”’ she continued. ‘As you can guess from the title, she had struck at the Maidens twice more over the years. With the power of three, even armies couldn’t oppose her. She set up shop in Vale, overthrew the Council and founded the Dark See.

‘The See described themselves as “a socio-political religious organisation tasked with peacekeeping and resource control,”’ she quoted directly from their first information handouts, wearing a resentful sneer as she did so. ‘They were nothing more than a Grimm cult. Triad preached from her new residence in the ruins of Beacon, for they were never able to get rid of the Grimm there, and I finally understood how her mind ticked. She’s a fanatic. She followed a being she called the “Empress of Shadows,” said to be an extremely advanced form of Grimm that gave enlightenment in return for servitude. She promised the people that if they pledged fealty, she would end hunger, end violence and that the Empress would spare them her wrath in the form of the Grimm.

‘And that was the strange thing,’ she went on glumly. ‘She actually kept her promises. The denizens of Vale, who had been living in poverty, suddenly had food and liveable incomes after new economic policies were placed. Her subordinates flooded the streets and cracked down on the gangs that terrorised the weak, and most incredibly, the Grimm prowled the city in an almost docile way, and only attacked those who caused trouble or spoke out against Triad. Their situation turned around almost overnight, and all it took was a little show of faith. Of course, for some people, the honeymoon period ended more quickly than for others. Triad banned the worship of any other deity, any who questioned this decision either disappeared or were savaged by the Grimm in broad daylight. Huntsmen, naturally, were also among these disappearances, since they were enemies of the Grimm and therefore enemies of the Empress.’

‘Do you really believe the other Kingdoms would stand for this?!’ Ironwood thundered, his posture raising as his gripped the armrests of his chair. ‘I don’t know what the international situation is by that point of time, but the Atlas I know wouldn’t allow a hostile takeover within another kingdom, let alone allow its new rulers to mistreat their people!’

‘Ever the interventionist, aren’t you?’ The Huntress rolled her eyes. ‘You have to understand, General, that the era of instant international communication is over. All the information each Kingdom had on one another was second-hand or delivered by courier. Treaties and agreements could take years to finalise, and by the time the other Kingdoms realised how dire circumstance were, they were already at war. A few years earlier, Sienna Khan had gathered an army and completely destroyed Shade Academy, forging the Kingdom of New Menagerie, and gave the scattered Faunus of Vacuo a simple choice: join us or die. At some point, Triad or one of her associates taught her the secret to controlling the Grimm.’

‘Control the Grimm, you say?’ Ozpin could not resist his curiosity. ‘You speak of such an achievement so casually. People have been attempting to tame those creatures as weapons of war for millennia, to no avail. How is it that Cinder, Khan and others know how?’

‘Simply put, I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Cinder had remained an ally of convenience with the White Fang for many years, and had often done right by Khan, and there was no reason for her to know how Faunus were being treated in Vale. In exchange for learning this secret, New Menagerie became an ally of the Dark See and declared war on Atlas. It was 1023 when the capital was breached and finally fell, just when I thought I had already lost everything.

‘By that point, me and a loose network of associates had disconnected from the Kingdoms, wandering the Neutral Territories for years,’ she explained. ‘We were Guardians of a sort, tasked with protecting the one thing Triad needed to breach the defences of Mistral, the last remaining free Kingdom: the Summer Maiden. We spent every resource checking to see if our trail was hidden, preparing this Maiden for a day when the See left an opening to take them down. It was no easy task. Triad had spies across the planet, and the best of the best were known as the Maidensbane.

‘They were an all-female fighting force dedicated solely to tracking down the last Maiden and taking her power,’ she explained. ‘They were very well-trained, extraordinarily dangerous, and becoming one was a privilege unlike any other. Their word was the word of Maiden Triad. They had the authority to arrest and interrogate entire villages without trial, had a salary and benefits scheme that would make a senior Specialist jealous, any man or woman they desired was theirs, and they would get transferred into the Honour Guard or the Inquisition the day they turned twenty-five. However, the one thing that made them such a huge threat was their mental conditioning, granting them flexible personalities, complete loyalty and utter ruthlessness. Even a humble innkeeper could turn out to be a powerful Aura-user waiting to strike you down the name of Triad once your back was turned.’

‘A terrifying thought indeed,’ Ozpin nodded. ‘There always have been those who have hunted the Maidens, but never any one initiative so widespread and so well organised. Forgive me if I’m interrupting, but the fact that the drive to search for the Maiden was entwined with what I assume is a general intelligence department seems to imply that knowledge of the Four Maidens had become more widespread by that time. Would I be correct in that assumption?’

‘Partially,’ she answered. ‘Among those in the know—those who travelled and those who had contacts among the powers that be—the Maidens were something of an open secret, but they were merely rumour among the villagers and the townsfolk. Ordinary didn’t need to know who exactly the girl Triad searched so fervently for was. They thought “Summer Maiden” was the alias of one of the most wanted fugitives in Remnant. I never knew exactly how large the price on her head was, but it must have been astronomical, given how often it turned honest folk into opportunistic savages.’

‘Such is human nature,’ Ozpin lamented. There was a pregnant pause as Ozpin took a deep breath and considered his words carefully. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but you mentioned that Cinder had the power of all four Maidens. I know you must have tried your best to protect her, but tell us. What happened to the Summer Maiden?’

The Huntress remained silent for a time. She knew her story would come to this point, she knew that they would eventually ask this question, but how could she answer questions she continually asked herself? How could she describe the worst moment of her life so casually, like just another after-action report? She could tell that these men would try to understand, but to them, it was simply a story; a sequence of events that were almost never going to occur in this timeline. She sighed. The only thing that could be done was to confess her mistake and hope they could learn.

‘Our luck finally ran out in 1029, less than thirty years from now,’ she said quietly. Once she had started talking, it was difficult to stop. She had analysed the events so thoroughly, considering what she could have and should have done, that the actual recollection was almost natural. ‘We had stopped by a small mining town in the Neutral Territories near Vale. We, the last of the New Guardians, stayed in the quiet little place for two nights to restock on food and Dust. Far, far too long. We were about twenty kilometres out when we heard rumours that the Maidensbane had forcefully occupied it and discovered that the population were actually devotees of the Iron Saint, and thus summarily convicted of heresy. They couldn’t have laid a more obvious trap. Everyone agreed that the best course of action was to stick to the plan and keep moving. Everyone but her.

‘The Maiden was still young, but she was old enough to know exactly what a conviction of heresy entailed. Old enough to have seen trusted allies fall one by one, to realise that devastation followed in her wake. Old enough to decide that she wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing anymore. I warned her time and time again that the Maidensbane were too dangerous, that she wasn’t ready to fight them, that her time would come, but the fool girl wouldn’t listen. She slipped away during the night, and I had just conked out I was so tired from arguing with her. I should have gone with her. I should have assembled everyone and humoured her with some fanciful rescue mission. At least then I could have looked after her myself, and pull her out if things got too hot.

‘I woke up hours later to see the horizon on fire. I went as fast as my Semblance could carry me, but even my most basic of instincts told me it was already too late. When I got there, the town was nothing but ashes and tinder. From what I could gather, it seemed as if the Maidensbane had already put the townsfolk to the sword, content to lie in wait for their quarry. The fighting must have lasted all morning. There were bodies everywhere, but in my eyes there was only one. She was lying in a pool of the blood of others; she must have killed about thirty of them before they finally took her down. Even now I can’t process the reality of it. That stone cold face, those dead eyes, and aside from that single gunshot wound in her chest, she was pristine. Like a marble statue of that brave, _stupid_ girl...’

‘I can only begin to imagine,’ Ironwood sighed. ‘I hope we don’t lose any Maidens that way in this timeline.’

‘Forgive me if I find that to be of little consolation,’ the Huntress shook her head, and began to massage her temple with her fingers.

‘This Maiden,’ Ozpin cut in, carefully and morosely. ‘She was more than just your charge, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed flatly, covering her eyes with one hand. ‘Her name was Penny, and she was my daughter.’

For moments that felt like hours, no one had anything to say. For Ironwood, there was nothing that could be said, and he felt like the highest of fools for claiming he could ever begin to empathise. For Ozpin, this was a familiar story, and every time he heard it, he hoped beyond hope that no one would have to tell it again. The Huntress cradled her forehead in silence for the longest time, until she finally looked up with a sharp inhalation.

‘You didn’t bring me here to listen to my story,’ she declared. ‘I came here to figure out how to prevent it from happening again. We need to figure out Cinder’s next move, and figure out where she is if she’s not staying at Beacon?’

‘Agreed,’ Ozpin nodded, his old eyes casting a glance of concern. ‘However, I think that can wait until after the sun comes up, which won’t be long now. I believe you should get some rest while you can, Ruby.’

‘Please don’t call me that,’ the Huntress shook her head as she stood up.

‘Surely, we must call you _something,_ ’ Ozpin shrugged. The Huntress thought for a moment, until the perfect alias came to her. A noble spirit like the Ruby Rose of this timeline could never bloom on the path that she was walking, and so...

‘Call me Wilt,’ she decided, and Ozpin nodded, his mood indiscernible.

‘Very well, Wilt,’ he said. ‘I’m assuming you’ll need a place to stay, yes? For that, I’d recommend Professor Schwarz’s room in the faculty accommodations. It’s been disused ever since he accepted the offer to teach at Haven last year.’

‘We’ll also need to arrange some compensation for the favour you’re doing us,’ Ironwood suggested. ‘You think Víbora’s bounty will suffice for now?’

‘That’ll be more than enough,’ Wilt responded gratefully. She stepped into the elevator and gave the Guardians a final look. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to working with you.’

‘As are we,’ Ozpin smiled. ‘After you get rested, you can start on making a formal report on what you know of Cinder. We can discuss what do next after that.’

Wilt merely gave a nod as the door slid shut.

 

* * *

 

The faculty accommodations were easy to find, being the large building across the campus from the student dorms. Few were up at this hour, and fewer still gave any mind to the woman strolling through the night and into the foyer. The receptionist gave her the keycard specified in the email she just received from Ozpin, and Wilt was directed to a room on the third floor.

She opened the door labelled “J. Schwarz” and found a sole queen-sized bed, surrounded by bare cabinets and empty bookshelves. She closed the door, took a tentative step and suddenly collapsed onto the quilted mattress. A mattress in Beacon, she only now realised. The last place in her life that she could truly call home. Wilt fell asleep almost immediately, and dreamed of Penny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rushed ending is rushed.
> 
> Haven't got much to say about that expo dump, but what I will say is that I'll spend more time form now on actually plotting the specifics of how the plot will develop; I've got a map of key events in my brain, but explaining how the dramitis personae get there is the hard part. You don't know how much this fic turned out differently from my original plans.
> 
> Also, I hope you've been enjoying Volume 4 as much as I have. I can't wait to see how canon will derail my plans, and I'm also looking for ways to integrate new characters and concepts into my older ideas. In any case, you may have to wait a while for the next update because, you know, I actually have to think about what I'm writing.
> 
> Colour Glossary:  
> Jinan is Arabic for 'garden.'  
> Schwarz is German for 'black.'


	5. V

** V **

**_The More Things Change..._ **

**_The Shrouded Sorority_ **

**_Painting the Town_ **

****

After a long while of silent meditation, Ruby Rose opened her eyes and stood up, her knees aching from kneeling in front of the statuette for so long.

‘That ought to be enough for one morning, don’t you think?’ she sighed in satisfaction, looking down at the individual who had knelt next to her.

‘Yes, I think it was time I headed back to the dorm, anyway,’ Velvet agreed, her ears perking up.

When Ruby found the multi-faith chaplaincy in a small building by the main hall after initiation, she was not surprised to see other followers of the Iron Saint; after all, it had been without a doubt the most widespread faith in all of Sanus for more than seven hundred years. But after seeing a familiar face more and more often, by the end of the semester, Ruby and Velvet had eventually began to talk to one another, and Ruby was surprised by how long a conversation with her could go on. Over time, Ruby sometimes wondered if this was how normal people made friends, and eventually she began to look forward to the Sundays when they could hang out.

‘So, how long do you think you’ll be away on that mission?’ Ruby asked as they left the chaplaincy. The campus grounds were fairly empty, as was typical for a Sunday morning, making the two minute walk to the dorms a straight shot. Velvet shrugged, her eyes narrowing as she calculated the logistics of the trip.

‘I don’t see us being out there for longer than four or five days,’ she estimated, brimming with confidence. ‘Coco can rip apart an entire horde of Creepers in about two seconds—no exaggeration—and I’ve seen Yatsuhashi’s sword crack open a Deathstalker in one swing!’

‘Sounds very...strong and manly,’ Ruby agreed uncertainly. One thing she had learned during her short time with Velvet was that while Ruby could go on all day about weaponry and engineering, once Velvet started talking about her teammates, it was difficult to get her to stop. This was particularly true of Yatsuhashi Daichi, her partner and boyfriend of five months. Having never been in a relationship and having little interest in pursuing one, Ruby had little heart for conversation once he became the topic.

‘I’m sorry, forgot you weren’t into romantic stuff,’ Velvet chuckled. ‘Either way, we’ll be back in plenty of time for the dance.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Ruby nodded in disinterest. The Vytal Festival Ball, occurring every second year on August 1st, was held by the hosting Academy to formally welcome the tournament competitors before the fighting began. The fact that it had only just occurred to her that it was happening in seven nights’ time showed how much she cared.

‘Not interested in the dance?’ Velvet asked, sensing her mood.

‘I get that a lot of people are excited about it, but I just can’t fathom why,’ she explained. ‘I mean, everybody gets crammed into the hall in fancy suits and dresses we’ll only wear, like, once, and we all just bop along to whatever’s on the charts that month. No one really does anything.’

‘I take it they didn’t have very exciting dances back at Signal,’ Velvet mused with a coy grin. ‘Don’t worry. Coco’s the one taking the helm, so I can guarantee you’ll enjoy anything she cooks up.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ruby shrugged. ‘I guess I’m just not a very dance-y person.’

‘And that’s fine,’ Velvet counselled. ‘I’m not much of one either, but I still think even people like us can find something to enjoy next week.’

‘Says the girl with the boyfriend,’ Ruby rolled her eyes. Velvet scoffed in mild offense, eyes narrowed as she placed a hand over her chest.

‘You know what I was trying to say!’ she riposted. ‘Just think of it as another opportunity to spend some time with your friends. And if for whatever reason you feel like you need to take a date, I’m sure there aren’t that many boys or girls who’ll turn you down.’

‘Like _that’s_ happening,’ Ruby chuckled. ‘Anyway, I should really get back to the dorm now. See ya!’

‘See you later, Ruby,’ Velvet called as Ruby suddenly accelerated towards the dormitory building. ‘Gods bless!’

Ruby paid barely attention as she pushed her way through the door, flashed her Scroll at the sensor that unlocked the stairwell and clambered up the stairs almost on all fours, whipped up by her excitement. This wasn’t some boring dance, nor was it some formal ball or courtship ritual that operated on unspoken self-contradictory rules; this was Team RWBY’s plan to strike back against Roman Torchwick and the White Fang! The struggle between good and evil, the clashes of masterfully designed weapons, the protection of the innocent: these were the things she understood. She was the girl with the plan; even though they had yet to discuss it at length and finalise the details, but by the Gods, it was her plan because she _decided_ they should come up with a plan.

She threw open the door, ready to announce that it was time to get to planning, until she noticed that her teammates were motionless, their eyes glued to the holographic screen in the centre of the room.

‘Investigations into the dramatic incident that occurred last night are still ongoing,’ Lisa Lavender reported in her trademark neutral tone. ‘Police stormed a warehouse in the south-western dock following reports of a robbery only to find a massacre. Cyril Ian is reporting live at the scene. Some viewers may find the following images disturbing.’

 

* * *

 

Glynda Goodwitch paced urgently down the hallways, and around this time of year, even the first-year students knew better than to obstruct her when she wore that irritable expression on her face. From her perspective, it was understandable. She had a very long career in a profession where most die young, and in those long years she had seen phenomena that defied rational explanation and had become privy to secrets that could break the foundations of modern society if divulged to the wrong pair of ears. In her role as a Guardian, it was a practiced and vital skill to suspend her disbelief, but when she woke up that morning, that skill was put to the test when Ozpin told her that the young Ruby Rose had recently arrived from the future to prevent a Grimm Cultist who had infiltrated the school from eating the Four Maidens’ souls and taking over the world, and assigned her the task of finding this miscreant in a suitably subtle way.

‘It’s bad enough that I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not in day-to-day tasks,’ she grumbled breathlessly, once again checking her Scroll. Of course, when she knocked on Cinder Fall’s door, she found that the room was empty, and so she busied herself with the unenviable task of finding her or her teammates by asking the students, but subtly, so that she didn’t spook them in case they were still here for whatever reason.

‘Where’s Qrow when you need him?’ she groaned as she turned a corner. A drunken maverick he may have been, Qrow Branwen was the master of gathering information, getting even the most reliable of informants to spill their life stories with a few shared drinks and a few guided questions, perhaps even a promise of a pleasurable reward for honesty. Though naturally, she would never allow him to use his preferred strategies on her students, as their years spent as students together caused an awakening in his sense of self-preservation whenever she was around.

‘Ah, excuse me, Miss Nikos,’ she suddenly called, spotting the head of tied back scarlet hair from the crowd. It was difficult for her to not recognise a famed tournament combatant, a model student, or a potential candidate for a future Maiden.

‘Hello again, Professor,’ Pyrrha greeted politely, stopping to look curiously at the teacher. ‘Is there something you need?’

‘Yes, in fact,’ she confirmed. ‘Do you know a girl named Cinder Fall, leader of Team...?’ She reread the information on her Scroll and wrinkled her nose. ‘Gods, they’ll make a colour theme out of _anything_ these days...’

‘You mean Team CMEN?’ Pyrrha tilted her head, and Glynda nodded. So that’s how it was pronounced. ‘I know them, but I haven’t seen them this morning. Last night, I saw them rushing past our dorm, and Emerald told me that something urgent had come up and that they had to go into town for a while. Not a word from them since.’

‘I see,’ Glynda cupped her chin in consideration. ‘Thank you, Pyrrha. That will be all.’ The girl went back along her previous path and Glynda turned away. Less than two minutes later, she had navigated her way to the elevator to Ozpin’s office, and let out a deep sigh as she pressed the button for the top floor. It was one thing after another this year. First there was the attack on Amber, then there was a fresh crop of rather unusual students who she would have written off had they not continued to defy her expectations. Then she met James for the first time in years, opening an entirely new can of worms, and then there was _this_ nonsense. Glynda shook her head. If Ozpin didn’t give her a pay rise after this was all said and done, she was going to be exchanging words with the other professors.

There was a final beep, and the doors opened to give Glynda a view of someone sat in front of Ozpin’s desk, their form hidden within a black hooded jacket.

‘You’re just in time, Glynda,’ Ozpin greeted casually. ‘Wilt was just giving us her formal report on her...journey.’ The chair in front of the clockwork desk swivelled around to her face the door, and there was the root of Glynda’s issues. The woman, wearing black jeans, red pumps and a black hoodie that was coloured scarlet at the cuffs and hem of the hood, regarded her with a look of nostalgic curiosity. Ozpin had informed her that she had been proven incontrovertibly to also be Ruby Rose, but that was not where Glynda’s scepticism lay. In her eyes, she was yet another unwelcome reminder that nothing in this world was certain, that there was always another secret that threw everything you thought you knew into question. Such was the lot of a Guardian.

‘Good morning, Professor Goodwitch,’ Wilt nodded, respectfully and deferentially.

‘Apparently, you’re a Guardian as well,’ Glynda reminded both the woman and herself. ‘It’s just Glynda.’

‘Sorry, Glynda,’ Wilt scratched at her brow. ‘I have a lot of strong memories of you from my time. I’m going to have trouble thinking of you as anything but my teacher.’

‘And I worry that may be the least of your future difficulties,’ Ozpin cautioned sombrely. ‘Glynda, do you have anything to report?’

‘They’re not here, just as you suspected,’ she confirmed. She approached the desk, and her eyes caught the short stack of papers laid in front of Wilt. ‘This must be the report you mentioned.’

‘Indeed it is,’ Ozpin affirmed, watching as his immediate subordinate began to flick though what looked like several pages of text. ‘Wilt, that much paper must have taken you a few hours to produce, at the very least. How much sleep did you get since our previous meeting?’

‘More than enough,’ Wilt answered forcefully, yet honestly. Glynda skimmed through the mountain of information Wilt had compiled, most of it from memory alone, meaning many portions were incomplete. She quickly discerned the most important parts about Cinder’s incomplete profile, her known associates, until finally, she reached the part about her newfound cult, the Dark See. She slowed her reading pace dramatically, poring over its object of worship—a humanoid, sentient creature of Grimm—its structure, its doctrine, its public and private goals, and suddenly Glynda felt her fingertips grow cold.

‘Déjà vu,’ she whispered under her breath, but not quietly enough to escape Ozpin’s ears.

‘See anything interesting in there?’ he asked.

‘I’m not entirely sure, but...’ she paused, and took a short breath to steady herself. She had known for years that this would come back to haunt her eventually, so there was no use hesitating now.

‘Ever hear of the Shrouded Sorority?’ she asked Wilt. She took her shaking head as her cue to continue, ignoring the look of concern from Ozpin. ‘They’re a Grimm Cult that operates within the upper strata of Mistrali society. They worship a being known as the Shrouded Queen, believed to be a particularly powerful Grimm, and their operations are funded by their leaders’ innate wealth and their connections to the underworld. My guess is that this Cinder character was someone raised or trained within the Sorority, going by the similarity in doctrine and their goal.’

‘And what’s the goal of this Sorority?’ Wilt asked.

‘Their philosophy is based around a single prophecy, known only to its leaders and the strongest candidates for its fulfilment,’ she informed her. ‘They believe that eventually, someone will take on the power of all four Maidens and lead the world into a new era. Most of the Sorority’s sisters don’t know the prophecy, and operate mainly in the interest of expanding and protecting the organization.’

‘How exactly do you know so much about them?’ Wilt asked pointedly. Glynda averted her silver eyes.

‘I once made the mistake of crossing them,’ she answered hesitantly. ‘I’ve fought more than a few of their agents, and learned a lot as a result. In a way, they’re the reason I became a Guardian.’ It was clear from her tone of voice and her crossed arms that she wasn’t going to say anything more.

‘Glynda,’ Ozpin counselled. ‘You mustn’t bear responsibility for the things they have done. What’s past is past.’

‘You know better than anyone that isn’t necessarily true,’ Glynda responded coldly. ‘They have a hand in half of the criminal networks on this continent, the cartels and the slave trade included. Tell me you at least read the true name of this Empress of Shadows in this document. You’ve suspected _her_ hand in their affairs for years, so we can’t preclude the possibility of them planning something on this scale. Until then, we investigate every lead, even if it leads us down paths we never wanted to retread. I’ll get in touch with James, tell his intelligence officers which signs they should look for. While I do that, you two should get into contact with Qrow and see what he’s gotten together. The only other thing we can do is wait for Cinder to make her next move.’ She made a move for the elevator, and flashed Wilt one more meaningful gaze.

‘Either that, or wait until your younger self tries to get herself killed again.’

 

* * *

 

Weiss took another measured sip of her cream latté, regarding Ruby sceptically as she rocked in the chair opposite her.

‘Ruby,’ she opened, ‘this is a tremendously bad idea.’

‘Is it, though?’ Ruby asked cheekily, raising an eyebrow as she took a greedy gulp of her caffé mocha, a beverage that would have been sweet enough even if she had not dumped five sugar cubes into it. The socialite narrowed her eyes icily.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you think that _you_ can think of a better plan?’ Ruby countered accusingly, taking another draught and slamming the cup down to emphasise the question. Weiss had barely touched her own drink while Ruby had annihilated hers in two sips.

‘ _Anyone_ could have,’ Weiss answered irritably, ‘provided you let them sit down and think for a few minutes before you drag them down to the city!’

It had been barely an hour since Ruby had seen the news report of that massacre down at the docks. The few minutes of conversation that followed were simply a recap from Blake on the Fang’s losses: she knew Musgo Víbora only by name and reputation, that he was a skilled fighter and was as ruthless as they came. They deduced that must have taken some powerful Aura-users to defeat him and such a large Fang contingent, and so Ruby had a change of plan: the two pairs of partners would split up and search the City of Vale for clues on this mysterious figure (or figures.) After several minutes of meandering about the town, Weiss finally managed to get her to sit down at a café that she found to at least passably classy and discuss their plan in the necessary level of detail.

‘Well, we might not have time to wait,’ Ruby explained. ‘Whoever did that has probably already moved on, so we should pick up the trail while it’s still warm.’

‘Remind me again why we’re trying to enlist a mass-murderer,’ Weiss pressed. She watched judiciously as Ruby shuffled in her seat. She may have been no fan of the White Fang, but even she had a difficult time excusing the brutality that had been reported.

‘Well...’ Ruby started, trying to suppress her discomfort. ‘Clearly, whoever did this didn’t like the White Fang, but it also looks like they knew they were going to be there. I think that however they knew, they might be in a better position to stop Torchwick than we are, so we should get their help.’

‘And what makes you think that they’ll lend us their strength?’ Weiss responded cautiously, wrapping her fingers around her drink. ‘The enemy of your enemy isn’t always your friend, Ruby. The person or persons we’re interested in are probably strong Aura-users, right? There’s quite a large group of people who’d fit the bill: A White Fang officer who decided to turn traitor, an assassin hired by an underworld rival of Torchwick’s, an inordinately well-trained security guard...the odds of our guy being an honourable Huntsman are pretty low.’

‘It’s still better than nothing,’ Ruby shrugged. Weiss narrowed her eyes further when she realised Ruby wasn’t going to back down.

‘The sheer number of possibilities presents yet another problem,’ she continued. ‘What exactly are we supposed to be looking for? Just like you said, our culprit is probably already long gone, so what kind of clues are we supposed to be searching for if we haven’t even the foggiest as to what could be significant? Yang apparently knows a local information broker, but where are we supposed to start?’

‘Well, I...uh...’ Ruby stammered, scratching at her head as she averted Weiss’ cold gaze.

‘Are you telling me you haven’t thought _any_ of this through?!’ she shouted, slapping her hand on the table and making Ruby flinch.

‘Well...no, I haven’t,’ Ruby confessed, deflating as she recovered from the sudden shock. ‘To be honest, I was banking on just running into something weird happening. That tends to happen to me a lot.’

‘That’s not what I’d call a sound strategy,’ someone from the side of the table contributed, causing both girls to wheel around in shock.

‘Penny, stop sneaking up on us!’ Ruby blurted out, fighting to still her hammering heart. When the shock was over, Ruby looked at the odd ginger girl with a mixture of relief and curiosity. ‘More importantly, what happened to you? We haven’t seen you since that fight at the docks. You took off without a word!’

‘I didn’t really get a say in the matter,’ Penny answered dejectedly. ‘My father’s men took me away before I could catch up with you. The chaos caused by the White Fang really scared him.’

‘I see,’ Weiss nodded, compartmentalising the quick flash of anxiety she felt, knowing how easily her own father could do something similar. ‘So...how have you been?’

‘Oh, I’ve been feeling wonderful today!’ Penny nodded, smiling in a way that Weiss found a little off-putting. ‘I wanted to have a quick walk around the city, and my father and Mr. Ironwood approved, so long as I don’t get into any more fights.’

‘Wait, you know General Ironwood?’ Weiss tilted her head curiously.

‘Of course I do!’ Penny responded, almost dumbfounded by how obvious it should have been. ‘He’s my teacher.’

‘Didn’t you come here from Atlas?’ Weiss prodded further, eyeing her sceptically. ‘He’s the headmaster of the Academy. Are you telling me that he’s tutoring you personally?’

‘I’m...a bit of a special case,’ Penny answered carefully, a little less animated than usual. Nodding in satisfaction, Weiss began to sip slowly from her mug.

‘So, what are you two doing out here?’ Penny asked. ‘You going out on a trip with your friends, or...’ She leaned in, cupping a hand to her mouth to make sure no one else could hear. ‘...is this a date? Are you a homosexual, Ruby?’

Penny’s hand was fortunately positioned to shield her from the spray of cream latté from her left. The two Beacon students stared at Penny with dropped jaws, with Weiss’ chin covered in an undignified dribble of coffee.

‘What kind of question is...?’ Weiss stammered, her face glowing like molten rock as she tried to search for an appropriately indignant response. ‘Absolutely...the nerve...the very thought...’

‘Penny, that’s not the kind of question you ask somebody out of the blue!’ Ruby scolded her, her disapproving expression completed by her pink cheeks. ‘Besides, it’s not a date. We are conducting an investigation.’

‘Oooh, sounds interesting,’ Penny nodded in interest, apparently already forgetting her other question. ‘What are you investigating? Did Blake run away again?’

‘No,’ Ruby sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘We’re investigating that White Fang attack last night. Did you see it on the news this morning?’

‘I know about the failed heist,’ Penny responded, taking a step back and clasping her hands behind her as she broke eye contact. ‘That is to say I know _of_ it. I know absolutely nothing regarding the particulars of the event or its perpetrators.’ Penny’s clarification was punctuated by the sound of a loud hiccup. Weiss and Ruby gave odd looks to one another, and looked back to Penny.

‘Something tells me you might be able to help us figure this one out,’ Ruby hummed, looking at the odd girl with a small smirk. ‘Welcome aboard, Penny! We were just going to leave, considering I’d finished my drink and Weiss spat hers all over you, and I’m thinking maybe the three of us will walk around for a while until Yang gets back to us or something else happens. How does that sound?’

Ruby gazed at Penny expectantly, ignoring the seething glare from Weiss as she cleaned up her space on the table, and was unsurprised by the beaming grin of hers.

‘That sounds like the recipe for a wonderful time.’

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, Blake thought she probably should not have been surprised by the fact that Yang had an underworld contact. She was also not entirely surprised that the individual in question was not so much a “contact” as he was “someone who Yang beat in a fight and now knows to acquiesce to her demands because he doesn’t desire another beating.” After a relatively short time as her partner, Blake knew that Yang was as outgoing and daring as her sister was shy and reflective; therefore, she should have foreseen the small information network she had assembled over the years, composed of friends, lovers and former opponents that had gone their separate ways. The fact that this little network began to stretch into the city’s underbelly was merely inevitable.

This odd thought was compounded by the surreal sight of a nightclub during the day. Multicoloured strobe lights and cantering spotlights were put away in favour of massive lamps mounted onto the ceiling that bleached the vast room with a harsh facsimile of sunlight, making the empty dance floor resemble something akin to an abandoned warehouse. The pounding bass and stirring synths were also absent, leaving the staff and visitors to conduct their business in a vast, oppressive silence. The girls perched themselves on stools coated in worn leather, sitting by a near silent bar as they watched the presences nearby. Men with sharp suits and sharper swords watched them suspiciously as they milled about, silently asking for direction from the entity behind the bar.

‘Here’s that drink I owed ya, Blondie, and one for your friend too,’ said Hei “Junior” Xiong: part-time nightclub owner, part-time information broker, and full-time scoundrel. His massive frame, an Aura strong enough to absorb three or four fatal blows, and his menacingly fuzzy face belied only a fraction of the power at his fingertips. He was quite a small player in the game of cloak and dagger that occurred in the backstreets, but his greatest source of revenue aside from his bar was in secrets and intelligence. He would never sell drugs or restricted weapon mods in his establishment, nor would he arrange anyone’s untimely death, but he could tell you who did, and at the best prices. If you wanted to know how the far the territories of the Kingdom’s biggest dons stretched, if you wanted to erase your identity, or if you wanted to know where to hire muscle for a day or a companion for the night, you came to Junior first, because Junior knew everything. Or at least, so it was claimed.

‘Sorry to say it, but I don’t know anything more than anyone else in this business,’ Junior stated pushing two cocktail glasses their way, filled to the brim with a pink concoction and decorated with small pink umbrellas.

‘Don’t you give me that, Junior,’ Yang responded sternly. ‘I know you have more to tell me.’ With that warning, she downed her drink in a single gulp, sighing in satisfaction. Blake slowly brought the drink to her lips and sniffed quietly. She didn’t need a Faunus’ heightened senses to detect the sharp, acidic quality to the sweet strawberry fragrance.

‘You’re really giving us this stuff?’ Blake tilted her head. ‘You didn’t even ask for I.D.’

‘Pretend we’re in Mistral,’ Junior shrugged, giving the impression that providing alcohol to minors was among the least of his crimes. Blake sighed in resignation, and sipped at the cocktail. The taste was sweet, smooth and cool, and the warmth trickling down her gullet was barely noticeable. She remembered that Yang had referred to it as a Strawberry Sunrise, though she said her uncle called the concoction “Baby’s First Hangover”, and that there was apparently a funny story behind the odd moniker.

‘Like I was saying before, I don’t know a whole lot, but I know a damn sight more than the papers,’ Junior informed the, getting things back on track. ‘If you wanna dive into this little enigma, there are some things you should know. Your slasher is a woman; worked alone, used a sword, and anyone who could tell you more just got carted off to the morgue.’

‘So she’s a ghost,’ Blake nodded. ‘Does anyone have _any_ leads whatsoever?’

‘One who just might,’ Junior responded as he took out his Scroll. He loaded up the appropriate data and expanded the device as he turned it around, showing the girls a picture of a man with a thin face and closely cropped black hair crowned with a pair of white-striped squirrel’s ears.

‘That’s Hideki Kurosuna,’ he began. ‘Age thirty-four, born right here in the City, and a recent recruit for the White Fang. He was involved in this little would-be heist, the sole survivor. No one’s seen him since last night, and if anyone can tell you anything more about this lady, he can.’

‘So, I know you know everything, but how did you come across this little titbit?’ Yang asked, tilting her glass nearly upside-down to get the last few drops of her drink. ‘Who’s to say there were _any_ survivors?’

‘Because the Fang are looking for him too,’ Junior answered, his face scrunching up as he recalled the details. ‘Today, I got more than a few gods-damned animals _innocently_ asking after this nobody, where he lives, where he’d go in a crisis; enough to make me do a little digging of my own.’ He began to scroll through his file, and Yang frowned as she saw the way Blake bristled.

‘Turns out he was a beat cop,’ Junior went on. ‘Operated in the north streets up until about four months ago, when the D.A. learned he had blood ties to the Fang. A blood tie born and raised in Mistral that he hadn’t spoken to in ten years, but enough to convince him to turn in his badge. Since then, he’s been in the Fang boot camp, probably ‘cause he had nowhere else to turn.’

‘Tale as old as time,’ Blake commented dryly, staring forlornly into her drink. Junior shook his head.

‘Well, there you have it, Blondie,’ Junior summed up. ‘That’s all you can get from me. I’ll waive my usual fee as an incentive not to go breaking any of my employee’s bones.’

‘Thanks, Junior,’ Yang nodded as she hopped off her stool. She gave Blake a worried look as she polished off her drink and motioned to leave.

‘If I were you, I’d try the north streets,’ he called as they began to walk away. ‘You better hurry. Fang’s sniffing him out, and I certainly don’t want to be in his shoes when they catch him.’

 

* * *

 

‘Kurosuna...’ Weiss read the name appearing on the text Blake sent her as she quickly skimmed through its hefty contents. ‘Had a residence and patrol route in the north streets. At least we’re in the right area.’

The north streets were a more built-up area of the City that formed a transitory area between the commercial district and upper-class gated communities. The buildings were spires of concrete and edifices of glass: there was an apartment building built in the aesthetic of ancient Mistral and contracted with angles and materials borrowing from modern Atlesian architecture; there was an office building with a wide glass revolving door, allowing one to see the contrast between its face of stone and its innards of polymer, steel and linoleum; there were semi-detached houses with four doors and two storeys apiece, their white brick coatings cut into tastefully sharp corners to create a cleaner, less weather-beaten take on the Pre-War aesthetic. The offices were the nerve centre of Vale’s trade and innovation, and the apartments and houses provided a more modern and more affordable alternative to the centuries-old chateaus further north.

 _And they let a Faunus patrol these streets in a uniform,_ thought Weiss. She reined herself in as soon she had time to consider the thought. As hesitant as she was to admit it, the recent revelation of Blake’s identity had been the beginning of a slow change in her views, starting with the realisation that her burning hatred for the White Fang needn’t lead to a mistrust for all Faunus; the last thing she wanted to do was entertain those snap judgements and say something that could undo all her progress with her team. To make them think she was exactly like her father. After a moment’s consideration, she elected to believe that Kurosuna’s descent was a tragedy and not simply an unfortunate inevitability. It would at least please Blake to hear her say it. But Blake was the last thing on Weiss’ mind at the moment.

‘My word, I really appreciate the look of these buildings,’ Penny commented, wondering ahead of Weiss and rapidly scanning her head back and forth. ‘The architecture here makes me feel like I’m back in Atlas, except there’s no snow.’

‘I know, right,’ Ruby agreed, gawping like a child. ‘I live on Patch, so I didn’t go into the City very often. This is my first time in these parts, I never would have thought I’d see a place so built-up!’

‘You assumed every part of the city would be old, didn’t you?’ Penny grinned. ‘You’re not the only one guilty of that mistake.’

Weiss scowled silently as Ruby scoffed, and then both of them began to laugh for no reason that was discernible to her. Weiss currently held no small measure of irritation for the small ginger girl who showed up out of nowhere after several days of radio silence, continued to act almost off-puttingly whimsical, and practically accused of her of being some _deviant._

It was that last point that bothered her most of all. Her changing views on the Faunus were only her most recent efforts to unlearn a number of ideas and attitudes that she had long recognised as wrong or at least counterproductive to her success as a Huntress or as heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. This long process began with long, frank discussions with her sister, when she was around fourteen or fifteen, who had been travelling as a Specialist long enough to recognise that approving only of what their parents approved of would only serve to further isolate her from the world. Matters of sexual preference were a particularly important subject in a Winter’s dialogues, given that they touched upon various rumours regarding how her decision to join the military was not the only reason for her being disinherited. Sharing a room with Yang and listening to her funny stories regarding past paramours was practically a form of immersion therapy in itself, so the idea of a same-sex relationship no longer filled her with the revulsion she was taught to feel, though it still felt rather unseemly. On reflection, what annoyed her most about Penny’s blunt question was the idea that she could be in one. She considered it quite the achievement to become tolerant of the concept, but the idea that she would involve herself in it, and with Ruby of all people, put her off-balance. It was not anger, but something less certain, something that frayed her mind at the edges and made her feet feel like lead. Weiss scoffed. What Penny suggested was ludicrous, so beyond the pale that it could be disregarded without a thought, so why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? And why did her gaze linger on Ruby? She couldn’t help but think of the way she dodged her question. Perhaps she was simply just as embarrassed as she was. It was probably nothing.

‘Hey, Weiss,’ Ruby called, causing Weiss to freeze in place. ‘You okay? You’re spacing out a little.’

‘I’m fine,’ Weiss shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Hey, do you hear that?’ Penny asked, and the others turned in the direction she indicated. Having walked ahead a little bit while Weiss was deep in thought, they had come across a sizeable backstreet between two stock buildings, tapering off into numerous alleyways wrapped in overcast shade despite being midday, and from one of them they could hear the muffled sound of raised voices. The three nodded in silent understanding, and began to traverse the grey, unpolished road, treading carefully as to not alert whoever was conversing. They pressed along the edge of a wall and Ruby, being first in line, peeked around a corner, and the voices became intelligible as soon as she could see the source.

‘I already told you, you have the wrong girl,’ shouted a slim woman wearing a business dress, staring down the man accosting her with a bristling squirrel tail.

‘Oh, I think we do,’ sneered the man from beneath a hood that shadowed his face, yet failed to hide the antelope horns that curved out from under it. She was surrounded by four men, all Faunus, all chuckling malevolently as the positioned themselves to block off all escape routes.

‘I’ve got people to talk to when I need advice, and they’re rarely wrong,’ the horned man continued. ‘And they’ve been telling me you know a certain Hideki Kurosuna. Intimately.’

‘What?’ she stammered, growing pale. ‘Hideki? He’s my ex. I haven’t seen him in months!’

‘Now, that’s where my sources disagree with you,’ he hissed, smiling venomously. ‘They said he took refuge at your place last night. Now, I don’t know what he did there, though I imagine it would make for a fairly entertaining story...’ He licked his lips. ‘I’m more interested in where he went afterwards.’

‘What makes you think I know that?’ she asked, sweating as she took a step back.

‘Why, one look at your pretty, lying little face, of course!’ the leader laughed. The others joined in as they began to approach, tightening the noose as the woman soon found herself with her back to the wall. The horned man pulled a fist-sized block of plastic from his pocket, and with a flick of his wrist, a metre’s length of sharpened metal sprung from an orifice at the top like a frog’s tongue.

‘Now here’s the idea,’ he cooed, pointing the collapsible sword at her. ‘I don’t want to hurt a beauty like yourself, so I think we should help each other out. The more honest you are about where your old boyfriend ran off to, the fewer body parts you lose. Doesn’t that sound like a fair deal?’

‘Stop right there!’ Ruby shouted, springing from the corner as she glared as menacingly as she could, prompting Weiss to roll her eyes. The Faunus turned to the source of their disturbance, gave her a single confused once-over, and began to chuckle once again.

‘You get lost or something, kiddo?’ the leader teased. The tip of his blade never left the woman’s throat as Ruby slowly approached, and she did not lose her nerve as one man pulled out a knife so long and thick it may as well have been a sword, whilst two more drew rather low-powered pistols. ‘Awww, look at how scary she’s trying to be! You’d think she was a Huntress or someth—’

At was then that Weiss and Penny jumped into position behind her, one scowling with Myrtenaster in hand and the other beaming innocently with fists raised. To emphasize the point, Ruby reached behind her and pulled out her weapon, spinning Crescent Rose as she unfurled to her true size. All four hostile Faunus went pale, their jaws dropping.

‘Oh shit, she’s a Huntress!’ the leader cried, his blade rattling as he considered whether to fight, run, or what to do with his hostage in either scenario.

The Huntresses fully capitalised upon that moment of indecision. Ruby blasted forward with a shot from her rifle, slamming both her feet into the leader’s face as she flew. Weiss was right behind her, gliding on a path of conjured ice as she held out a protective glyph to deflect the incoming bullets. She jumped as she reached the end of the short path, quickly drawing a glyph of gravity Dust beneath the knife-wielder’s feet, knocking him into the air and flipping him over just in time to let Weiss’ flying foot smash into his lower back, turning him into a man-sized projectile that flattened one of the gunmen. Penny had no need for weaponry or Dust. She ran full-tilt at the lone remaining gunman, deflecting bullets with her bare hands as he fired in blind panic. She gripped his wrist when she reached him and wrenched his arm behind his back as she manoeuvred behind him. She pressed firmly on his elbow, and he dropped his gun after a loud crack echoed through the alley. He howled as she tugged on the injured arm and spun him around to face her, and she immediately silenced his screaming with a powerful right hook to the jaw.

‘Are you okay?’ Ruby asked the lady, heedless of the hooded man stirring at her feet.

‘Okay...I guess?’ she answered, clearly unsure of how to process what she just saw. The leader had already struggled to his knees and elbows, groaning as he bled from a broken nose.

‘You’ll pay for that, you little bitch!’ he growled, rubbing at a cheek that was already   bruising. ‘You think the White Fang’s gonna ignore a slight like this? Your whole fucking family is dead!’

‘I’d like to see you try,’ Weiss responded coolly, placing a hand on her hip. Movement to her side drew her attention, and slowly approach the downed mugger, expression unreadable. ‘Penny?’

Penny did not respond to her query, staring coldly at the Faunus at her feet. With a casual kick, she sent him flying back against the wall and lying on his back. A slot on the pack-like device on her back opened, and a dozen swords unfolded and fanned out behind her as if held by phantom limbs. Two floated high above her, pointing down at the cowering criminal like the forelimbs of a praying mantis. She smirked innocently, and with a mental command, the swords fell.

‘No!’ Ruby shouted urgently. Before anyone could comprehend it, Ruby had already sped into the blades’ path with her Semblance, deflecting the attack with a flourish of her scythe. Penny stumbled back from the force of the parry, looking only mildly surprised as the blocked swords floated back into formation. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I was trying to kill him,’ Penny shrugged, looking with innocent bemusement at the cowering Faunus. ‘He mentioned he was with the White Fang. I’ve been authorised to use lethal force against the enemies of Atlas. The White Fang are enemies of Atlas, therefore I don’t see any problem.’

‘Well, I can think of several!’ Ruby growled impatiently, folding away the blade so that Crescent Rose was in cannon form. Behind her, the hooded man had stopped cowering and finally grabbed his sword, and raised it only for Ruby to turn around and conk him on the head with the now blunt weapon, knocking him out cold.

‘First,’ she began, gesturing to the businesswoman, who stared at the scene before her with wide eyes, ‘can’t you see she’s terrified? We don’t need to make things worse by getting people’s guts everywhere! Second, that’s not how we operate. I don’t care who “authorised” you. Huntsmen don’t kill defenceless people!’

‘That’s right,’ Penny agreed quietly, breaking eye contact as she looked down and folded her arms with a frown. ‘I’m a Huntress.’ The swords flowed together into a metal block like a deck of cards, folding in half to fit inside her bagpack. Ruby sighed as she put away her own weapon, looking forlornly at Penny’s obvious shame.

‘Look, we can talk about this later,’ Weiss cut in to console them, watching as Ruby placed a hand on Penny’s shoulder. Shaking her head, her expression became grave as she looked towards the confused businesswoman. ‘For now, we’d like to ask you some questions, Ma’am. Hideki’s life may be in grave danger.’

 

* * *

 

‘Look like Ruby’s intel is solid,’ Yang nodded as she looked at the most recent piece of information sent to her. ‘From here, it’s only a two minute jog to the airport.’

Blake agreed with a silent nod, and Yang followed as she stalked her way through the network of alleys in the eastern edge of the commercial district. It was a rusted, crumbling labyrinth built shortly after the conclusion of the Great War to house the orphans and refugees made in the chaos, and in eighty years it had hardly saw a penny of the Kingdom’s economic growth. The roads that they knew their quarry was too paranoid to tread were cracked, windswept and as dark as the cavernous alleys. The closed shops and the low-income apartments were only the paint that hid the grime underneath, for it was in this hidden city that one could find all sorts of commodities and services away from prying eyes. Where dead ends should have been, new paths opened up, leading the brave and well-informed to fighting rings, brothels, and as Blake knew, spots for the White Fang to meet, plan and recruit. It was certainly audacious for Kurosuna to choose a path so close to the White Fang, but they had cast their net so wide that they might not notice a man scurry right beneath their noses. At least that was the conclusion his desperate mind came to, but when you had a one-way ticket to Vacuo and you needed the quickest way to the airport you could find, it was certainly a sound deduction.

‘So,’ Yang opened, ‘any clue how we find this guy?’ They were jumping from rooftop to rooftop on the single-story building, taking advantage of the higher viewing angle. She asked that question after clearing a three metre leap, sprinting with heavy steps behind Blake’s silent run.

‘I’m not too sure,’ Blake confessed. ‘It’s a pretty big area, and there’s still some distance to the airport, so I guess we should just wait until something happens.’

‘Yeah, that’s usually how it works for us,’ Yang agreed. ‘It’ll be easier when Ruby and Weiss get here.’ They knew that the others were en route to this area, and would either meet up with them or be drawn to the same signs they were. ‘So, are you okay?’

‘What?’ Blake slowed her pace ever so slightly, and she forced herself to concentrate in order to maintain her balance. ‘I’m fine. Why do you ask?’

‘You’ve just been kind of down since we got to this place,’ Yang observed. ‘Like, you’re a little grumpy.’

‘I’m always a little grumpy,’ Blake countered. Yang shook her head, whilst her body effortlessly cleared another jump.

‘I mean, more a little on edge, you know?’ Yang elaborated. ‘You’ve been like that ever since we left Junior’s. Is it dealing with the Fang that’s bothering you? It’s because he said the A-word, isn’t it?’

‘Nothing escapes you, does it?’ Blake sighed ruefully. After her next bound, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and bent her knees as she landed, cancelling her momentum immediately. Yang stumbled a little further forward until she made a full stop, allowing them both to catch their breath.

‘It isn’t just that,’ Blake informed her, crossing her arms as she looked away. ‘I grew up hearing that kind of talk all the time. It doesn’t faze me as much as it should. It’s just...’

‘It’s the guy we’re after, right?’ Yang asked, putting words to the exact thought that was plaguing her. ‘You’re upset because he was a normal guy before he got sucked into the Fang. That’d have to hit close to home.’

Blake bit her lip, furrowing her brow as she tried to word it properly. Yang had recently developed quite the vexing habit of reading her mind, but there were still some things Blake felt she could not truly grasp. They had grown up in completely different worlds, after all, and Blake tried to get her feelings together in a way she would understand.

‘It’s just like Junior said: he had nowhere else to go,’ she began. ‘I don’t know much about this blood tie of his, but it sounds to me like his superiors were looking for an excuse to get rid of him. And you’re right, the thing that bothers me is how he was a decent, respectable person before all this, and he probably still is. Most of them were like that. Some joined many years ago, when the White Fang was still a force for peace. A few more, just as some are wont to claim, really are violent degenerates looking to kill a few humans...’

Yang began to cough heavily, and Blake could almost hear the word “Weiss” in the middle of her fit. Yang grinned cheekily as Blake glared disapprovingly. She sighed, and went on.

‘...But the majority were ordinary people, living their own lives, supporting their families, pursuing their dreams until they saw for themselves just how unfair this world is. Some fight on, and some become desperate enough to join the people who claim to fight for them. And just how true are those horror stories about the White Fang? It’s not rare for the media to turn an isolated tragedy into an interspecies outrage.

‘People join the Fang because they want to make a difference, but once it becomes clear what’s really happening, it’s already too late,’ she added bitterly. ‘You either lose yourself in the bloodshed, or you’re too afraid to break away. You just become another mask, painted with every brush people would care to use. To those on the outside, you’re just another thug. A thief, a rapist, a murderer...an animal.’

‘Blake, I...’ Yang tried to respond, but the words dried up in her mouth. Blake felt disheartened at Yang’s hurt expression, but she knew that at least a part of the point she was making was understood.

Before they could speak any further, a shot rang out. It was as low and as reverberant as an old wooden drum, and it echoed out from an alley only about thirty metres away.

‘You wanna check that out?’ Yang asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the blast. ‘We might just get a lead.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Blake shrugged, leaping after Yang as she went off ahead. No matter. These were conversations for another day.

 

* * *

 

Mercury Black spat into a pile of garbage bags in the corner of the alleyway alcove, looking contemptuously at his freshest kill, cramped in by darkened brick buildings that stole the daylight, leaving them in the shadows.

‘All that effort it took to find him, and he knew nothing?’ Emerald rolled her eyes in exasperation, and the sound of her voice made his node turn up even further. It had taken almost the entire day to track him down, a feat no easier for the fact that some of their informants got knocked out in a fight, and after Emerald used her Semblance to make him more pliable, Mercury determined his uselessness and disposed of him as such. Kurosuna, his drooping ears and glassy eyes hidden beneath a hood, was laid to rest between two dumpsters. Though his chin was caked in blood and his chest was warped into a concave pit, Mercury could not smell the death. It was mingled and hidden in the stench of rot and refuse all around him, and he doubted anyone would notice the foul scent until he had long become a gaunt mummy. That’s just what it is, he thought. This is what death looked like. People liked to pretty up their ugly fate with flowers, tombs, gods and noble causes for which sacrifice was worthy, but it didn’t change his mind that everyone died bargaining for their fate and smelling like shit.

‘At least Roman’s midget can stop biting our ankles,’ Mercury shrugged, the blood on his hands like the water on a duck’s back.

‘The nerve of her,’ Emerald fumed, not dignifying him with a look in his direction. ‘Cinder personally gives her a task, and she foists it on us? She’s such a little brat! Hard to believe she’s older than Cinder.’

‘We did what was asked of us, right?’ Mercury responded nonchalantly. ‘We got just about everything we can get about our ghost and we took care of another stray for the Fang. Now we just get back to Roman’s and wash the muck off.’

‘To where, exactly?’ asked a foreign voice that almost did not believe. Emerald and Mercury slowly turned around to the source of the voice, facing the mouth of the alley with tired grimaces.

‘Oh, today just keeps getting better and better,’ Emerald groaned, looking blankly at the shocked faces of Yang Xiao Long and Blake Belladonna.

‘Emerald? Mercury? What are you guys doing here?’ Yang asked uncertainly, swallowing heavily as she fought to keep a straight face, her eyes going to the body. ‘Who is that? Did you...?’

Mercury scoffed as he rolled his eyes. ‘Normally, I’d let Emmy talk our way out of fixes like this, but we’re all a little bit tired and you just caught us red-handed.’ He looked down at the scarlet spatter on the cuffs of his pants and chuckled lightly. ‘Well, red- _footed,_ at least.’

‘What is going on?’ Blake demanded, her hand slowly going for the handle of Gambol Shroud. ‘I heard you talking. You and Cinder are working with Roman Torchwick, with the White Fang. What are you hoping to gain?’

Now it was Emerald’s turn to chuckle. ‘I don’t know, Merc. Should we really take the time to explain it to this dumb animal?’

‘You take that back!’ Yang thundered. She jumped forward as Blake stepped back, eyes flashing red as Ember Celica unfolded over her forearms. As the shells primed, her head cooled enough to begin processing what Emerald had said, and her scowl softened. ‘Wait, how did you know?’

‘We knew a little more about you guys than we let on,’ Mercury answered, leaning back slightly so that he could look at a wide-eyed Blake. ‘Enough to know that you’re a long way from Menagerie, and that Daddy can’t look after you here. Adam misses you.’

Blake’s ears went low underneath her bow, and her hand immediately gripped the hilt of her cleaver tight, cold sweat beading her brow.

‘You know, he talks about you a lot,’ Emerald added, her hands slowly going for the holsters on the small of her back. ‘It’s revolting. I’m thinking that if I take you back to him, he might finally shut up. Whether I do so in one piece is up to you.’

‘I’m _never_ going back to him,’ Blake declared forcefully, tugging Gambol Shroud off her back and separating the sword and cleaver portions with a practiced motion and falling into position beside Yang. The blonde looked at her partner as she glared fiercely at her opponents, and steadied herself as she resumed her stance.

‘It’s a shame that we’re going to have to convince you to keep quiet about this,’ Mercury bemoaned, hopping on the balls of his feet as Emerald brandished a pair of camouflage green revolvers. ‘If it we’re up to me, we’d have kept the charade up a little longer. Then I might have gotten a chance to use those Team CMEN jokes I’ve been saving up.’

‘I bet you’ve been _throbbing_ for the opportunity,’ Yang responded cheekily, grinning even as her Aura flared and ignoring Blake’s flabbergasted glance. ‘All so you could _penetrate_ our school and _thrust_ into our weak spots?’

‘Yang,’ Blake sighed. ‘Are you two really doing this?’

‘That was Plan A,’ Mercury revealed. ‘Unfortunately, our time together is _coming_ to a close, so I think it’s time we brought this charade to its _climax._ ’ Emerald groaned, and rolled her eyes in Blake’s direction.

‘Yes. They’re really doing this.’

All at once, the chaos began. Yang and Mercury shared a dark laugh, and then without warning they leaped at each other, fist and foot first. Emerald darted around the impact that ruptured that air like a tidal wave, flicking her revolvers into serpentine sickle blades as she slipped into the shadows, only to meet Blake there.

 _She’s good,_ Mercury admitted internally, gritting his teeth as he brought up his leg to block Yang’s right jab with his knee. The recoil from the blast of flame sent him back about a metre, giving him enough space to hop into the air and bring down her follow-up left cross with an axe kick. Yang rolled forward as the force of the blow sent her down, stymieing her attempt to stand in order to duck under his scything roundhouse. Seeing him wide open, Yang roared as she drove her fist into his gut, and stood as she followed with a left hook that sent him to the floor. Using the momentum from the strike that sent him flying, Mercury pressed his hand to the damp floor and pushed off, righting himself in the air and landing on his bouncing tiptoes. He tongued the inside of his bruised cheek and tasted blood, feeling his skin grow hot and his chest become tight. Just the thing he needed to get into the rhythm.

Blake shot upward using the momentum from her clone, and before the stationary copy could fade into the darkness she had sailed over Emerald’s head and swung the cleaver at her face. She blocked the attack easily with a grunt of effort, and when Blake landed she did not let up the pressure, landing a sequence of rhythmic blows with both parts of Gambol Shroud in a martial waltz. Unable to keep up with the flurry of blows, Emerald hopped backwards, unleashing a torrent of bullets with her revolvers. She saw the first of many pass harmless through the clone when she instinctively brought her guard up to the left, seeing the Faunus rush in just as she anticipated and lashing out with her sickles. They slid through her as if she was made of mist, and she only realised it was a clone when she felt the toe of Blake’s boot smash into the base of her skull. She yelped as she saw stars and lost balance, holding out her hands as she fell to her knees. She shook her head clear of cobwebs, and her red eyes blazed at they turned back to her opponent.

‘You’ll pay for that, you freak,’ she hissed, flicking a switch on her revolvers. She rose to her feet and her blades now dangled from thin bronze chains, sneering as she began to twirl them.

‘I think I might need an assist here,’ Mercury called nonchalantly, using a free hand to divert Yang’s charge and push himself to relative safety. As much as he respected her skill, he knew Yang had the advantage, as the limited space made it that much more difficult for him to land his deadliest kicks. It was a disadvantage made all the clearer as Yang hopped back and forced his guard back up with a short jab that required almost no windup. He winced as his Aura absorbed the impact and knocked him back, Dust embers clinging to his clothes.

‘Ugh, I have to do _everythin_ g for you, don’t I?’ Emerald growled, swinging her sickle in a long arc that made Blake duck, and retracting it instantly as she closed in. She batted away the wild swing and ran up the wall, piercing the brick to make purchase and firing at Blake with her free weapon. Blake swung her blades in graceful arcs and batted away the bullets with practiced precision, missing Emerald as she pushed off the wall and sailed through the air. Yang barely had time to look up before her feet planted themselves into her face, making her stumble and fall to one knee as Emerald jumped off.

‘Yang!’ Blake cried, readying her weapons as she saw her partner surrounded and massaging her bruised nose. She had to jump back in to help. They could beat them if she could—

‘Don’t you have greater things to worry about, my love?’

‘No,’ she gasped, all thoughts of fighting melting away as she heard that voice. _His_ voice, coming from right over her secondary ears. Her knuckles went white on Gambol Shroud, her breath hitched as though her lungs had filled with ice, and she was almost blind to what was right in front her, her vision blurring from the terrifying, irresistible urge to turn around. It wasn’t just his voice imposing itself on her senses: she could feel his shadow cool the skin on her back, the warmth of his breath in her hair, the crushing presence of his Aura. She had come so far, put so much distance between them, and he was right behind her. Skin beading with icy sweat, she slowly forced herself to turn on her heel, craning her neck to hesitantly meet eyes with...

Nothing. There was nothing but the mouth of the alleyway, the overwhelming pressure gone as soon as it had appeared.

‘W-What...’ Blake stammered, swallowing heavily. ‘What the hell was—’

Blake thought no more of it when she felt the impact. Taking advantage of her turned back, Mercury burst forward in a slithering dash, closing the distance instantly and smashing her in the side of her head with a jumping roundhouse. The attack sent her flying, causing her to smash into the far wall shoulder first. Lilac sparks danced across her skin as her Aura flickered away, and she slumped down to the floor without a sound, her head leaving a thin trail of blood as she slid down.

‘Nice one, Em,’ Mercury whooped, rolling his neck as he shrugged his shoulders, looking down on the swaying blonde. ‘Two on one’s pretty good odds, I’d say.’

‘You...’ Yang snarled, looking from Blake to Mercury and back. From this angle, she couldn’t tell if she was still breathing or not. What difference it made was yet to be ascertained; it wouldn’t help either him or Emerald. ‘You two are dead!’

Her Aura swelled in a corona of heat, her hair aglow and eyes blazing. She shouted wildly as she threw a straight punch, launching a rocket in Mercury’s direction. As he rolled smoothly out of the way, she went at Emerald in a snap, the smaller girl looking calm and confidant under the furious scowl right over her. She hopped back as Yang howled and turned the ground beneath her to rubble, popping off a few shot with her revolvers. She absorbed the attack handily by crossing her gauntlets over her face, allowing Mercury to step in and kick her viciously in the stomach. Her hair almost shone white as she suppressed the urge to vomit. She gripped the ankle that had just struck her, growling at him as she tossed it aside. His leg swaying far to the side, Mercury could not correct his balance in time to block as she lashed out with both fists, one on top of the other as they blasted into his torso. He wheezed as he sailed through the air and hit the wall, and he was barely able to get his breath back and roll out the way of her next attack. Yang had launched herself forward with a blast from Ember Celica and put all her anger into a vicious straight. The attack knocked a hole into the brickwork as big as she was, tossing up a cloud of brick dust as her weapons made a terrifying bang. Mercury would have been unnerved at how easily the blow could have killed him had it not given them the perfect opportunity.

Yang roared and a pulse of hot air erupted from her steaming skin, clearing the dust all around her as she stepped back out of the hole she made. Eyes like lit coals scanned her surroundings, and found she was alone. Mercury seemed to had vanished along with the cloud of windswept debris, and Yang would not have been surprised if Emerald had also decided to sneak away into the shadows. She was surrounded by silence, save for the steady rhythm of her own hot breath. Slowly, she began to wind herself down, lowering her fists, and slowly approaching the unconscious Blake...

To receive a kick in the head. Her Aura was thankfully still active, and she was sent reeling by an impact that should have fractured her skull. Rolling to her feet, she swayed as her newly reignited eyes rapidly searched for the origin of the blow. Something struck her full in the chest, eliciting a strangled gasp as needles of agony dug in throughout her upper body, though the worst of the feeling came from raw incomprehension. From the impact point of her pain, her assailant should have been right in front of her, yet there was nothing there. Something caught her in the collarbone, and the impact forced her to the ground, causing her Aura to flicker as she let out another breathless yelp. Her hair blazed in a colour that was more white than gold as she forced herself up, and she almost saw something as she got to her feet. Blurred movements of colour flickered throughout the area, wisps of grey and greenish-brown speeding about in the corners of her eyes. Reaching out, she could feel them, even if she couldn’t see or hear them. They were still here, and were changing her perception somehow. Something felt wrong from the moment she knocked down that wall, and now she knew what.

‘Cowards!’ she shouted, launching a flare almost desperately at the place she last felt a movement. The projectile hit nothing, and her effort was rewarded with another heavy blow to the stomach. Something bony hit her in the chin and made her stumble back, igniting her entire being. The constant punishment would continually fuel her Semblance, but with nowhere to direct it, it would do her no good.

The veil finally lifted, and Emerald smirked confidently as she raised her revolvers. Yang blocked the rapid firing as best she could, but her fatigue meant she could not catch all of the bullets with her gauntlets, and they bit painfully into her thighs and belly, reducing her Aura to a thin translucent layer.

‘Remember me?’ Mercury asked from right beside her, and she remembered the instant he struck. His leg shot out and the sole crushed into the side of her right knee. The explosive impact blew away the last of her Aura in a swarm of golden wisps. Yang’s first thought was to look down in disbelief as her leg began to bend in unnaturally. Then she heard it crack, and the pain flowed as soon as the sound registered. She growled in furious pain as her knee became a core of sharp, molten heat that boiled her thigh and melted her calf. Balance was an impossible task, and she fell heavily onto her uninjured side, hissing foul curses between grit teeth.

‘Wasn’t that just a little underhanded of you, Merc?’ Emerald teased, strolling causally to Blake’s still body.

‘Me?’ Mercury gasped, his voice layered with a veneer of hurt. ‘You were the one who kicked her in the tit!’ He looked down at his conquered opponent with the kind of curiosity one would give to a particularly grotesque insect. ‘So what do we do with these two?’

‘Adam has unfinished business with this one,’ Emerald reminded him, kneeling down in front of the unmoving Faunus. ‘I think it’s time that kitty came home.’

Though she was moving to pick Blake up, Emerald still held one of her sickles as a note of caution. This allowed her to sense the incoming projectile, and then around to slice the incoming flare and make it dissipate harmlessly across her Aura. Yang lay flat on her front, pushing upon her upper body by leaning on her left hand, and her right gauntlet smoked with spent Dust.

‘Don’t you touch her,’ she growled, residual flames dancing in her hair. Mercury planted his boot into her back, and her face slammed into the ground.

‘And her?’ Mercury asked, businesslike in his cruelty. Emerald grinned venomously.

‘You can do what you do best.’

‘Gladly,’ he purred. Overcome with pain and exhaustion, Yang was only just strong enough to keep her eyes open as he slowly took her foot off of her, raising and extending his leg high above his head, making his heel a headsman’s axe. She looked up, shooting Mercury her nastiest glare. Just because she could not fight off the end didn’t mean she had to accept it.

Mercury’s smirk vanished as he felt the hairs on his neck rise up, and he spun on his heel and brought down his raised leg to knock away the blade flying towards him. He then saw that the sword was just one part of a flourishing fan, and he jumped away in fear as the redheaded girl cut apart the space he occupied with a gesture. The many blades returned to their spot as they fanned out behind her, and Emerald sighed as the other two members of their team came running behind her.

‘Yang!’ Ruby shouted urgently, scanning the scene with all due haste. ‘We heard someone fighting back here. What happened to you? What’s going on?’

‘I don’t think our odds look too good now, do you?’ Mercury shrugged, his eyes never leaving that fan of swords, or the girl who smiled all too widely for comfort.

‘Forget it,’ Emerald cautioned, eyeing the newcomers icily. ‘We already did what we came here to do. I never fancied our odds against all four, and we have no idea what this other kid can do.’

‘Then shall we take our exit, my friend?’ he offered, raising his eyebrow cheekily as he gestured theatrically to the rooftops above. Emerald narrowed her eyes.

‘Fine,’ she seethed, ‘but _you’re_ the one explaining this to Cinder.’

Nodding in agreement, Mercury crouched low, and shot off into the air like a tightly coiled spring, landing smoothly onto the far roof. Emerald had to content herself by tossing the chained sickle, hooking it into the lip of the rooftop and using the anchorage and her other blade to scale the wall in seconds. The newcomers ignored her, utterly consumed by the sight of what she left behind.

‘Yang,’ Ruby gasped. She knelt down by her sister and felt completely unable to resist staring at her leg, the knee bending in a direction it wasn’t supposed to. ‘You’re hurt! Why were Mercury and Emerald there? What’s happening?’

‘CMEN...’ Yang groaned, wincing as she tried to shift herself to face Ruby. ‘They’re with Torchwick...With the Fang. Ah, _fuck._ Forget about me. See to Blake.’

Ruby watched miserably as Weiss ran over to the eerily still girl and Penny stood stock still, staring at the scene with narrowed eyes.

‘Don’t worry Ruby,’ Penny consoled. ‘I detect a heartbeat.’ Soon enough, a long groan came from the direction of the crater and Blake stirred slightly.

‘Oh, thank the Gods,’ Ruby sighed, too relieved to really consider how stranger it was that Penny was able to find her pulse form all the way over here.

‘She’s waking up,’ Weiss reported, noting with concern the listless look in her eyes. ‘I think she has a concussion. We need to get them to a hospital!’

Ruby nodded in agreement, reflexively looking back at Yang’s shattered knee. She looked at the way her dear sister writhed, and finally began to wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the sun was beginning to set, and the long shadows created by the yellow sky were where Cinder’s contact felt right at home.

The south-eastern port was near silent at this time of day, with the dockworkers having returned home with the conclusion of a slow day. The dock nearest to the agricultural district had never seen much import, with most merchants preferring to weigh anchor further north and closer to the main trading hub, and thus the port looked as neglected as its community felt it was. The complex boasted only two short warehouses, and the three cranes near the edge of the water were built of ancient, reliable technology, using squeaky pulleys and rusted hooks in place of sophisticated electromagnetic adhesion. All of it sat on half a hectare of rough cement, its lip eroding with the sea salt and riddled with barnacles, which in the eyes of the locals led to its own charm in contrast with the smooth spotlessness of the industrial docks.

After a walk through the city that took several minutes, Cinder Fall stalked through the shadow of the warehouse, eager to meet her contact at the arranged time. She was smiling as her heels clicked one in front of the other at an almost frightening pace. Some might feel her smile was intriguing, or alluring, perhaps it was even a sign of contentment. It was a carefully constructed mask; no one needed to see that the fire in her eyes were only a spark compared to the rage that boiled in her blood, not just yet. So many things had gone wrong, it was ridiculous. She had entrusted people with simple tasks, and her faith was rewarded with staggering displays of incompetence. She and Neo had practically shoved the Paladins into the hands of the White Fang, yet the stupid beasts managed not only to get themselves killed, but their killer knew her identity, putting the entire operation at risk. Even Mercury and Emerald, her two greatest assets, were entrusted by Neo to bring back a key witness of the massacre, but they not only elected to kill this survivor, but were seen doing so. Now Team RWBY knew that she and Torchwick were connected, and were still alive on top of that. She knew it hardly mattered, that there was nothing a pompous heiress, a Fang runaway and two nobodies from Patch could do to stop what was coming, but what ultimately counted was the principle of the affair. Salem chose _her_ , out of every member of the Sorority who ever lived, and yet she was to keep being judged for the failings of others. All in all, Mercury and Emerald’s continued existence was the result of extraordinary generosity on her part. Now the time had arrived to deal with another annoyance.

‘Get out where I can see you,’ she called to the modest stack of crates five metres from the warehouse door. ‘This is where we agreed to meet. Don’t bother hiding.’

‘Your senses are as sharp as ever, my friend,’ her contact’s voice rang out, crystal clear despite his heavy cover. The pile stirred as he climbed out, and Cinder felt his Aura go from a well-hidden spark before to a roaring, menacing flame. The stacked boxes shifted to make a gap wide enough for a man to fit through, and the first things she saw in those shadows were a pair of squinting, twitching yellow eyes, and a grin like a crescent moon.

‘Now tell me, young Cinder,’ opened Tyrian as stepped into the dusk. ‘What makes you so desperate that you require my assistance?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes the longest chapter I've written so far.
> 
> This marks the point where the timeline really begins to diverge and dip into AU. Like I said in the previous chapter, I'll try to reconcile my pre-existing ideas with new developments in canon as best as I can, but I think you can officially consider this an AU story now. Either way, Big T is coming to town, and I'm really looking forward to writing him.
> 
> I don't want to feel like I'm just throwing this shit out into the electric aether, so let me know what you think. Comment and Kudos, and I'll see you people next year.


	6. VI

** VI **

**_Mutual Goals_ **

**_Pasts and Futures_ **

**_Allies of Convenience_ **

****

As Tyrian approached her, smiling all too brightly against the bloody backdrop of the setting sun, Cinder resisted with all her will the urge to boil his skull. His very presence was a bruise to her pride; the fact that she had summoned him was an admission of defeat. Salem had already entrusted her with so much responsibility in the task to claim both the Fall Maidenhood and Beacon’s Relic, and thus she was loathe to contact another one of the Queen’s trusted. She could not afford to jeopardise the tasks they too were busy with, but that was not her concern. It sent a message that she wished never to convey, that she was either too timid or too incompetent to create chaos on the same scale as her colleagues. She would never hear the end of this from Watts.

‘It was a stroke of good fortune that you and I happened to be on the same continent,’ he mused, chuckling easily as his scorpion tail wagged lazily behind him. ‘Perhaps Lady Luck played a part in the Spring Maiden’s trail going cold, and perhaps it was she who gave me the whim of looking for leads in the City of Vale? After all, do you really believe I’d come all this way just for you?’

‘Far be it from me to distract you from your hard work killing and torturing your way across the Neutral Territories,’ Cinder droned, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. ‘I’ve dedicated myself to a task infinitely more demanding than tearing down villages and sniffing the ashes for traces of magic. You should be grateful I even considered reaching out to you.’

‘Our Goddess favours humility, Cinder,’ he cautioned her, his tone and face halfway between amusement and offense. ‘You contacted me because I was the only one you could reach. The good doctor would laugh in your face as you confirm every presumption he has of you, and Hazel...is Hazel. Do not overestimate your worth. Salem is eternal, and that means no one is indispensible, not even a Maiden. But wait, you’re not even a true Maiden yet, and your latest scheme to complete your Maidenhood is there to cover for your previous miscalculation. But that’s all besides the point. What is it that you need my help with, friend?’

Cinder uncrossed her arms and held one arm behind her back. From this angle, he couldn’t see the smoke rising from within her clenched fist.

‘I’ve been compromised,’ she admitted, reminding herself not to lose control. ‘I don’t know how, but someone out there knows my name, and she is willing to cross the White Fang to find me. I need to smoke her out, and come up with a new plan.’

‘New plan?’ Tyrian considered. ‘Meaning your enemy has compromised your plan to infiltrate Beacon. You’re not going to use the Checkmate Program after Watts worked so hard on it? I can’t say he’ll be pleased.’

‘I can only imagine,’ Cinder rolled her eyes.

‘There’s something about your request that also intrigued me,’ Tyrian went on. ‘You used certain pronouns when you mentioned your new enemy. I assume that means you have something for me to go on?’

‘Not a lot, to be perfectly honest,’ Cinder sighed bitterly. ‘I only know the sound of her voice from the White Fang communication logs. Female, human, early to mid forties if I had to guess from sound alone, and aside from that, I know she’s an Aura-user powerful enough to take down a Fang contingent by herself.’ Tyrian considered this information for a moment, and narrowed his eyes in a childlike pout.

‘You have to admit that you’re casting a rather wide net here.’

‘That’s why I have you here,’ Cinder smirked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to bolster his confidence, not if it could delay the day they would betray one another. ‘Of course, I’ve considered a few possibilities of my own in the mean time. Best case scenario, she’s with the Sorority.’

‘Those ignorant fools?’ Tyrian scoffed. He turned and began to pace, his feet springing with amusement. ‘They’re a convenience, a font of Lien. A clan of common criminals who are content to fawn at shadows playing on the wall whilst you alone turned towards the light! They are no more a threat to our enemies than they are a boon to us. Besides, your word is the word of their Shrouded Queen to them. What could you possibly fear from the Sorority?’

‘A rogue faction, perhaps?’ Cinder cupped her chin, and began to lay out the possibilities she had already considered. ‘Some of my sisters were not too happy with my ascension among the ranks. Called to higher purpose we may have been, we are still only human, and jealousy often drives one towards rash action. There’s also the possibility of a traitor in the ranks, though I only know of one would dare offend the Sorority so openly, and I’d know if it was her.’

‘Considering these factors,’ Tyrian contributed, ‘it may be safe to say they have nothing to do with this...tragedy.’

‘Bear in mind, Tyrian, that the Sorority angle of my theorising represents the base case scenario,’ she reminded him brusquely.

‘I see,’ he nodded, grinning with anticipation. ‘And the worst case?’

‘That she’s with the Guardians, and that my plan is an open book to them,’ she admitted pessimistically. Pessimism was nothing more than your base instincts preparing for the worst, so her plans always benefitted from listening to that voice at least once in a while. ‘Which is why if we can’t smoke out my stalker, I could simply use your expertise to strike at Beacon from a new angle.’

‘I wouldn’t say your situation is that dire,’ Tyrian shrugged, not even bothering to hide his amused smirk. ‘I don’t expect the Atlesian special ops to kick down your door any time soon, because not even you could screw up that badly. For what it’s worth, I’ll humour you for now, and since I’m already here, we may as well gather more allies.’

‘What are you talking about, Tyrian?’ she cut in impatiently. The damned fool could never state his intentions clearly, always with verses and riddles.

‘I believe there is someone in this Kingdom with mutual goals in mind,’ he hinted, as if he could sense her irritation and seized upon it. ‘We have connections, so we should use them. Don’t burn bridges when you could recycle the wood. A loose end can easily be weaved into our great tapestry.’

‘A well constructed monologue,’ Cinder commented coldly, eyes narrowing into glowing slits, ‘now could you spell out exactly what the hell you’re talking abou—’

It was his comment about a loose end that caused her to realise it. Once the connections began to fire in her brain, she was unsure where to embrace Tyrian or slap herself in the face for not seeing it sooner. Instead, she closed her eyes, chuckling with infinite amusement.

‘I assume that means you’ve happened upon another marvellous idea?’ Tyrian asked, spreading his arms with praise.

‘As loathe as I am to admit it, you’re a genius,’ Cinder laughed. ‘I was planning on arranging matters so that a group of Huntsmen would get rid of him for me, but I suppose I can work him into our affairs.’

‘Then whatever are we waiting for?’ Tyrian whispered, unable to contain his glee. His mad eyes darted about, noting that at some point during their conversation, night had fallen. ‘We’re in a boatyard, so I see no harm in... _convincing_ a sailor to part with their vessel.’

‘Then go right ahead,’ Cinder shrugged. ‘You’ve come all this way, so you can entertain yourself while you’re in the City. If you fetch that boat right now, we can get there in less than an hour.’

 

* * *

 

The first thing that returned was sensation. She was warm, cocooned in something soft, and dull pain lanced its way through her brain like the roots of a weed planted in the side of her skull. Pain accelerated the process, and soon came movement. Her face scrunched up, her fists clenched, her secondary ears twitched. Remembering how her body move quickly made her remember many other things, identity and experience chief among them, though the pain made recent events much more difficult to recall. She willed her face to relax, and her eyes opened as consequence, and soon her senses where overwhelmed with light.

‘Still among the living, I see,’ she heard someone groan, as if their schedule suddenly became much busier. ‘Of course, I knew you hadn’t left us. I’ve only got about half a dozen instruments telling me as much.’

She blinked rapidly, and when the light became manageable, Blake forced herself to lean upwards, grunting as the roots in her skull became aflame.

‘Oh, please do keep forcing yourself,’ the voice sighed. ‘Who needs rest when you nearly shatter your skull?’

She finally relented and flopped onto the bed, and yet she felt herself rise anyway as the motorised bed began to fold itself so she could lie upright. Her bleary eyes scanned the sterile linoleum room, seeing an unoccupied bed opposite her, and her ears were filled with the steady metronome of a heart monitor. There was a clouded glass wall to her left, surrounding a simple wooden door, and to her right was the source of the voice.

‘Head injuries are always tricky things,’ said Doctor Cephas Rauta, never looking up from his clipboard. ‘When the unconsciousness subsides, the lingering after-effects can range from anything between “minor inconvenience” and “bedridden vegetable.” Luckily, you seem to lean towards the former.’

The doctor was as tall as he was svelte, his trunk narrower than the back of his chair and his head level with hers even as she leaned up on a bed a metre off the ground. His bare forearms were ghostly appendages that were wrapped in superficial layers of muscle and skin, and his grey polo shirt and black slacks were swallowed by his great white coat, whose rolled-up sleeves had twice the circumference of his upper arms. Even his head was thin, possessing a narrow jawbone, a sharp nose, almond-shaped brown eyes, and topped with neatly cut and combed greyish-black hair.

From the fact that he was here, Blake knew she had been taken back to Beacon’s infirmary. Whether the students here stayed Huntsmen, or whether they decided to ply their skills in the elite armed forces or in private security, Aura-users went into the most dangerous professions around, and thus Ozpin felt the necessity to bring the best medical expertise he could find. One such expert was Doctor Rauta, a Huntsman hired as a general practitioner, a student councillor (though most were loathe to ask his advice), and if needs be, a coroner. Specialised as he may have been in treating Aura-users, it did not mean he had any idea how to interact with teenagers.

‘How...how did I get here?’ Blake asked absentmindedly, getting the obvious question out of the way first. The doctor shrugged slightly, absorbed by the clipboard.

‘Your team practically carried you all the way here,’ he droned, as if the story positively bored him. ‘They went quite some way, and it was doubly impressive considering they were carrying someone else.’

‘Someone...?’ She began to ask, and suddenly, finally, memory returned. Only brief flashes of Mercury, Adam, and the impact, but it was more than enough to make her cold with dread. ‘Yang!’

‘Don’t raise your voice, she needs her rest,’ he advised, like a father asking his child to stop bothering him. ‘I sedated her a while ago, but she’s still in a bad way. Severe patellar fracture. She came out of surgery about twenty minutes ago, so she will need time before she’s her usual injury-prone self.’

‘Surgery?’ Blake raised an eyebrow, scratching absentmindedly at her head. ‘How long was I...?’ She trailed off, gasping as her fingers brushed the soft fur of her feline ears. Her eyes looked down and to her left side, and she saw that she was dressed in a simple hospital gown, and that her bow was nowhere to be seen.

‘About five hours,’ he answered with no regard to her search. ‘Two badly injured patients, one of them requiring surgery, made my day about as eventful as yours must have been. Though to be honest, it makes for a nice change of pace from feigned influenza before mock exams, roundabout requests for condoms, and afflictions that are most definitely not hangovers.’

‘But...’ Blake protested, scratching at her ears as if her bow would reappear if she did it fast enough. ‘Where’s my—’

‘Your bow is in the trunk at the end of room, along with the rest of your clothes,’ he informed her. For once, his gaze left his clipboard and Blake made contact with his dark eyes. ‘Your concerns are completely unfounded, by the way. Doctor-patient confidentiality is the few medical principles I bother to maintain, and the only other people in this room are those who already know about it.’

Blake looked away, her ears folding in a vain attempt to hide themselves in her hair. ‘I have my reasons for keeping these a secret.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you do,’ he said tonelessly. ‘That little revelation made me have to reconsider my treatments. Did you know that Faunus brains don’t swell after trauma as much as those of humans?’

‘No, actually,’ Blake admitted, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms, ‘though I did know plenty of individuals who were more than happy to illustrate the differences between our species.’

‘Philosophers and anthropologists can list as many differences as they like, but I only care about the ones that can quite literally mean the difference between life and death,’ he informed her emotionlessly. ‘The Faunus brain’s comparative lack of swelling is the main reason your concussion wasn’t more severe. That’s not getting into how the two races react differently to different substances, and no, this isn’t the preamble to some puerile catnip joke. You can obfuscate your heritage to whomever you like, but I’d recommend against doing it to your doctor, lest they prescribe you with twice as much ibuprofen as you need to combat that migraine.’

Unable to bite back, Blake bit her lip, and broke eye contact, glaring a hole into her bed sheets.

‘Don’t worry about him, Blake,’ a voice sounded from behind the curtain behind him, to Blake’s disbelief. ‘I know the sawbones can be a bit of a jerk, but he’s actually a pretty cool guy once you get to know him.’

Doctor Rauta sighed, pushing himself up to his full, intimidating height, drawing back the curtain in resignation. Yang lay at a seated angle, waving cheekily at Blake despite her bleary eyes. Her form was obscured by thin blankets, save for the leg that was raised by a stirrup and wrapped in a thick cast.

‘Miss Xiao Long, as pleasant a surprise it may be for you to wake up so soon, I believe most people are wise and fortunate enough to not be on familiar terms with a physician.’

‘What are a few cuts and bruises between pals, eh, doc?’ Yang shrugged. She raised a single eyebrow, and her grin grew. ‘Besides, you know the number one reason the students come to you. I at least come right out and say it instead of spending three minutes trying to get two words out.’

Doctor Rauta had no visible reaction to that implication. ‘You can forget about doing anything of the sort. I don’t see you getting out of that bed for at least a week.’

‘Come on, Doc,’ Yang pleaded. ‘Doesn’t Aura give you super healing or something?’

‘Yang Xiao Long, you just came out of relatively minor surgery for an injury that would cripple an ordinary person for life,’ he reminded her bluntly. ‘Aura or no, seven nights of bed rest is the very least a doctor can ask of you.’

‘Seven at least?’ Yang exclaimed in exasperation. ‘But I’ll miss the dance!’

‘How tragic.’

‘Ugh, fine,’ she relented, throwing her head back onto her pillow. ‘I guess it kind of beats walking around on crutches for the rest of my life.’

Nodding briefly, Doctor Rauta turned and approached the door, giving a final look to Blake as he gripped the knob.

‘Miss Belladonna, it would be best if you stayed the night in this bed. If there are no other ill effects after you wake up, you can return to your classes. I’ll ensure that Professor Goodwitch will give your partner any homework she misses—’ There was a loud groan from Yang’s bed. ‘—and that your team will have plenty of opportunities to visit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a worried younger sister to reassure.’ The doctor finally turned the knob and exited the infirmary, and as the door closed, Blake could hear the beginning of Ruby’s long barrage of panicked questions. She tilted her head back to Yang and narrowed her eyes.

‘I don’t know how you can be so casual about this,’ she scolded her.

‘Simple, it’s the painkillers,’ Yang quipped. Blake heard a soft moan as she saw the toes wiggle in the cast. ‘That is some good shit.’

‘They could have killed you!’ Blake snapped, pushing herself off the bed as far as her body could manage, letting her sit straight up as she scowled at her partner. ‘They weren’t some lowly pack of Beowolves, or typical White Fang soldiers or some other band of thugs. This is the real deal. That attempted heist back on the docks was just scratching the surface of what the White Fang are capable of, and we don’t know how Torchwick and CMEN relate, or how deep any of this goes.’

‘They’re strong, I get it,’ Yang cut in impatiently, looking at her injured leg. ‘They were a little too strong for us that one fight, but once I’m out of this bed, we can get stronger, and we can beat them next time.’

‘It’s not a matter of strength, Yang,’ Blake pleaded, feeling tears stinging behind her eyes even as her blood heated up. ‘If we lose against Cinder or Roman, there’s not going to be a next time. We are in over our heads. We can’t do this anymore.’

‘Why not?’ Yang asked, shrugging with a sour expression. ‘We lose one fight and suddenly you—’

‘One fight is all it takes!’ she cried, and that outburst stilled any further complaints from Yang. Sighing heavily, Blake leaned back down on her bed, and turned away on her side. ‘I thought I could run from my past, but it turns out I didn’t run far enough. My time with the White Fang caught up to me and got you hurt. I don’t want that to happen to you, or anyone else again. I’d...like to take a break from this. I know I was the one who wanted to do something about the White Fang, but I...I just...’

‘I get it,’ Yang answered solemnly. Blake dabbed at her eyes, ensuring they were dry before she rolled back over to look at her. Her lilac eyes were unwavering and serious, yet her mouth was pulled in a small, sincere smile. ‘You can take as much time as you need to. With or without you, we’ll beat them.’

‘How can you say that, Yang?’ Blake shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘You’re still so determined, even when you’re in a hospital bed. You know firsthand how dangerous this affair could get, so why do you still want to dive into this mess?’

‘You know how you said you didn’t want your past to hurt us?’ she reminded her. ‘Well, I want that for you too. You want a fresh start, so I’ll make sure nobody tries to drag you back, not even this Adam dude.’ Blake instinctively flinched, and looked away again.

‘You wouldn’t be so sure if you met him,’ she murmured. Yang, as much as she wanted to avoid deflating her friend any further, could no longer contain her curiosity.

‘Who is he anyway?’ she asked. She hated the way Blake seemed to shrink at the question. ‘When Mercury mentioned his name, it really set you on edge. It’s probably why you froze up in that fight.’

‘It wasn’t just the memory,’ Blake confessed. Her hands stirred as she searched for the best words to describe it. ‘I...heard his voice. It felt like he was _there,_ like he was right behind me. I know it makes no sense, but—’

‘I think I know,’ Yang cut in, a little bitterly. ‘Merc and Em, I think one of them has some kind of ability, something that messes with your head. I might have been able to beat them if it wasn’t in play. Either way, whoever this Adam guy is he must have been pretty important if that trick of theirs worked so well on you.’

‘You could say that,’ Blake responded, downcast.

‘The way they were talking about him, he sounded like some kind of big shot,’ Yang observed thoughtfully. ‘Was he in the White Fang too? Was he someone close to you?’

‘Yes to both, but...’ she answered hesitantly. She closed her eyes as she inhaled though her nose, and when she opened them, she flashed her partner a melancholy grin. ‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk about it. Maybe some other time?’

‘Whenever you’re ready,’ Yang relented. There was silence for a moment, and then Yang bore her teeth in a wide grin. ‘But you know what he sounded like to me?’

Blake sighed, preparing herself for whatever childish insult she was going to spout. In spite of herself, Blake began to smile.

‘Go on,’ she urged. Yang’s grin softened, and her eyes began to shine.

‘Like somebody who’ll never hurt you again,’ Yang stated emphatically. ‘Not while you’re here, not while I have something to say about it. And that’s a promise.’

Blake’s first instinct was to tell her that she was wrong, to warn her that if Adam wanted something he usually got it. But in the face of the warmth of that smile, and the strength that punctuated those words, Blake was unable to feel anything but comfort and gratitude.

 

* * *

 

Wilt briefly wondered what Professor Goodwitch had invited her to her office for, and found her answer immediately when she saw a fat bottle and two glasses on the desk.

Glynda’s office was not as grand or as architecturally impressive as Ozpin’s, but it was more than appropriate enough for a deputy headteacher. A stout mahogany desk, stacked with neatly organised papers and decorated only with a single picture frame, formed the centrepiece of the room, sitting upon an elegantly crafted Vacuan rug and surrounded by a plush chair in front and a finely upholstered leather swivel chair behind. Polished wooden floors led to a balcony wall made of glass, keeping the study cosy and full of light in the day, but provided a fanciful view of the shattered moon and stellar debris. Glynda reclined on the swivel chair, eyeing Wilt carefully as she gripped the bottle and pulled out the cork with a quick _pop_.

‘Mistrali brandy,’ she explained as she poured two short measures into each glass. ‘Windpath Armagnac, bottled 983. It was a gift for destroying a troop of Beringel near Kuchinashi about eighteen months ago. Never really found an occasion for it.’

‘Wow, then you definitely earned it,’ Wilt congratulated her earnestly. She reached for the glass nearest her, and took a deep, eager draught. The molten sweetness, with woody, buttery undertones, boiled in her mouth and burned down her gullet, and already she could feel the tension lift from her shoulders, and she unconsciously sank into the back of her chair. ‘Wow.’

‘Indeed,’ Glynda nodded, having taken a small sip of her own and now looking completely astonished at her glass. Her composure quickly returned, and she set down the snifter as she adjusted her spectacles. ‘Wilt, I’m not calling you here for anything serious. I just wanted to talk to you in a more relaxed environment. I felt that it would be more productive to your work as a Guardian if you had a good working relationship.’

‘That concerned for my wellbeing are we?’ Wilt wondered, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms. ‘Is it a lady thing? Can’t have a working relationship with one of the boys?’

‘Well...’ Glynda began, taking another short sip. ‘Among the male Guardians, one is the headmaster of a school on the other side of the world, one is a very powerful political leader with a lifetime of military experience, one is a man who refuses to tell anyone how he knows over a thousand years of history’s greatest secrets, and the last is your own uncle. They’re all respectable, trustworthy, honourable people, but there are just too many worlds between you and them to really connect in a professional manner. That and Qrow would just turn you into his new drinking buddy.’

‘Oh, Glynda,’ Wilt chuckled.

‘I’m serious,’ Glynda riposted, her face crinkling at the mention of his name. ‘He himself once told me that his adorable little Ruby would become his official fellow booze partner the day she turned twenty.’ To her exasperation, that warning only made Wilt guffaw in delight.

‘That would have been nice,’ she sighed after quickly calming. Glynda noticed the way her smile faltered slightly, her eyes shining as if they were trained at something far away. They regained their focus, and soon those silver orbs were fixed on Glynda. ‘So what about you? Why do you want this _professional_ relationship?’ Glynda’s face immediately curled, as if thinking deeply about what to say next.

‘Call it...a selfish request,’ she mused hesitantly. Sighing deeply, she turned around the picture frame and Wilt began to study it intently. The frame contained a single Polaroid photo of two young men and two young women, all smiling confidently at the camera. Far to the left was a girl with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her narrow green eyes framed by thin glasses, and was very obviously Glynda. Two of the others, one a Faunus with a lion’s tail and the other a girl with dark skin and braided violet hair, escaped Wilt’s recognition, but it was the third she paid most attention to. His shaggy forest-green hair went down to his shoulders and covered his eyes, but something about his jawbone caught her attention. In her mind’s eye, she added a few decades of wear and tear, gave him a haircut, gave him different sets of clothes, but her imaginings did not come together until she saw a thermos clutched tightly in his hand.

‘No way,’ she gasped. ‘You were on a team with Doctor Oobleck?’

‘Indeed,’ the teacher nodded, staring longingly at the photo. ‘He and I were once a part of Team GOLD, class of 974, alongside your parents’ team. There was nothing the eight of us couldn’t accomplish. Bartholomew Oobleck, Llewellyn Voski and Diana Elwood: those were the three I would have at my back as we dived into the Abyss. My first friends...’

‘Never made friends from before then? No family?’ Wilt asked, swallowing in instant regret. Even throughout all her years, she could never fully suppress that unstoppable puppy’s curiosity, and it always reared its head when she least expected, resulting in a foot in her mouth. It was clear from Glynda souring expression that she was not going to answer those particular questions.

‘There’s a lot to miss about youth, but the one thing I wish I could reclaim are my friendships,’ Glynda explained ruefully. ‘Bartholomew went into university around the same time I became a Guardian, so contact became difficult for both of us. Llewellyn was killed by an Ursa Major back in ’82, and Diana had taken missions that were...somewhat unethical. She could never find a healthy way to cope with the things she had seen and done, until eventually, she took her own life about ten years ago. Bart and I are still on close terms, but I can’t exactly be honest when he asks if there’s anything bothering me.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ Wilt consoled. Her story made her recall a particularly depressing item of trivia Weiss once used to chastise her recklessness: that over half their group would be killed before they reached the age of twenty-five, and that less than ten percent would make it to fifty. Her own experiences corroborated that statistic, her friends dropping like flies during the first few attacks on the Academies, and then slowly falling one by one during the reign of the See. When she was young, she thought she had understood and accepted that no Huntsman ever died in bed, but accepting death is a whole other matter when you stare it in the face.

‘I think you can see why I desire something like that,’ Glynda went on. ‘I used to work well with both Qrow and James, but Qrow became this drunken letch, and James and I have too much history to really—’

‘History, you say?’ Wilt mused, raising her eyebrows as she raised her glass to her lips. Just as she remembered, Professor Goodwitch’s self control was remarkable, her only reaction being a slightly pinched nose.

‘Now, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the only thing between us is professionalism,’ she declared, taking a careful sip of her drink. ‘Whatever you think we may have had ended years ago.’

‘Really?’ Wilt probed, eyes widening in a facsimile of alarm. ‘Then I guess I was just imagining the lipstick on his lower jaw.’

Glynda took the glass away from her mouth and slammed it on the table, freeing her hands to block the oncoming coughing fit. When the attack subsided, Professor Goodwitch glared at the time traveller, grinning smugly as she suppressed some girlish snickers.

‘There was no lipstick,’ Wilt squeaked from the corner of her mouth. ‘I was screwing with you the whole...’ Wilt was unable to finish her sentence, her voice fading into a long wheeze as her body was racked with spasms of laughter. Glynda fumed silently, slowly wiping the droplets of brandy from her chin with her thumb as her eyes lingered on the woman who clutched her stomach with breathless mirth.

‘Unbelievable,’ she groaned. ‘It seems like Taiyang and Qrow have produced a woman as incorrigible as they are, though I suppose one look at your sister would prove that you wouldn’t fall far from the tree.’

‘True, true,’ Wilt nodded, finally calming down with a deep exhalation. There was a moment of silence as Wilt looked out the window, her eyes becoming perfect mirrors for the moonlight.

‘I think I would like something like that,’ Wilt answered quietly. She swirled the liquor in her glass, staring contemplatively into the deep brown colour of the brandy. ‘I never really fulfilled the stereotype of the lonely Huntsman because I was never really on my own. All my life, I was surrounded by close, trusted friends. My own team, the broken remnants of others, they all found themselves drawn towards me; they called me a leader, though the only thing I ever led them to were more bitter victories. No matter how many of us died, or whatever else happened, they continued to depend on me, continued to support me, and I couldn’t help but love them all. I was married twice, widowed twice, and both were people who were with me from the beginning, who had more cause than anyone else to leave me behind. Those are the very reason I’m still alive.

‘And that’s why I’d like to accept your proposal,’ Wilt concluded, raising her glass. ‘Nothing would put me at ease more than a woman my own age watching my back. I can trust you to do that, right?’

‘With your life,’ Glynda agreed, smirking smartly whilst she raised a toast of her own. ‘To your second future.’

‘To my second future.’

Their glasses collided with a sonorous ring, and the evening passed in idle conversation.

 

* * *

 

Penny sat straight up in her chair, staring out at the streets of Vale far beneath. From the altitude at which the jewel of Atlas’ fleet, the _Ascalon_ , was hovering, people looked like gnats, and cars and low-altitude airships resembled fireflies. She watched the endless movement in the lake of light, straining her sight to five-times magnification, so that even individual faces were barely visible even a hundred metres above the tallest buildings, level with the pulsing light of Beacon on the far cliff side. There was no particular purpose to her observation; she simply liked to be able to observe so much simultaneous motion. She wondered if this was what the General called a hobby. Both he and Father were always stressing the importance of one, something fun to do when she wasn’t training. She had no active duties since her return from her trip with Ruby, and so she watched. Penny thought it was nice.

The door to her bunk slid open quietly, and General Ironwood stood patiently at the threshold.

‘Good evening, Penny,’ he stated stiffly. ‘Would you mind if we had a little chat?’

‘Oh, not at all, sir,’ Penny agreed eagerly, jumping to her feet and saluting in a well practiced motion. Practice. Now that was an odd word for Penny. Due to the way her body was constructed and her mind was programmed, theoretically any motion the human body was capable of could be replicated from one instance of observation, and because a digital archive was so much more efficient than a net of synaptic circuits fuelled by chemical reactions, procedural memory was as simple as executing the associated algorithm. The salute was not like the CQC manoeuvres she had mastered in less than a day, it was simply something she automatically knew through prior experience was appropriate to do in the presence of the General.

‘There’s no need for a salute, Penny,’ he chuckled. Or perhaps not. That would require some further revision. He let himself in, wearing a smile that reminded her of Father when he was doing maintenance. ‘I just thought I’d ask you how your day went.’

‘Haven’t you already received a report?’ Penny asked with a measure of hesitation. After they had rushed Blake and Yang back to Beacon, she had been escorted back the _Ascalon_ by some of Ironwood’s soldiers, who had stressed his and her Father’s disappointment that she had gotten involved in another fight. Her reassurances that the people she had beaten up were only White Fang members did nothing to set them at ease.

‘I know the basic flow of events, true,’ Ironwood nodded, letting himself in and sitting on the bed opposite the chair. ‘But I want to hear the details. It’s easy to tell when you’re deep in thought about something.’

Penny agreed with a nod, though she knew he only thought so out of instinct. As a system, the human brain was woefully inefficient to the point where a powerful enough emotion or memory could override all trails of thought. For the last ninety-six minutes and forty-four seconds, the questions she really wanted answered had been consigned to a lower priority runtime so that she could watch the people beneath in peace. The general’s question had dredged up the issue, and her focus on the events in question made her smile falter.

‘I think...that Ruby is angry with me,’ she confessed.

Ironwood remained silent, making sure to listen carefully. Penny’s odd friendship with the girl Ozpin was so interested in was one that had his attention, especially given that she had seen her at two different points in her life. Despite her father’s insistence that she was still unready to interact with Remnant at large, James was confident that Ruby’s presence would work wonders for her development. Penny took the General’s silence as a cue to continue.

‘As you know, Ruby, Weiss and I fought off some hooligans who were harassing a civilian,’ she explained. ‘When one of them confirmed that he was with the White Fang, I moved to eliminate him, as per protocol. But then, Ruby defended him. She was furious! She told me that Huntsmen don’t kill people who can’t fight back. I was just so upset by the look in her eyes that I just...backed down immediately.’

Ironwood sighed as he heard this. As much as he wanted Penny to become her own person and take control of her own destiny, there was no avoiding that she was a project funded and observed by the military. Neither he nor her father saw her as a mere weapon like some others did, but they both knew it if all went well with Penny, she would be the first of many who would have less choice in the matter than she did.

‘I think what Ruby told you was very important, because it shows us the difference between Specialists and ordinary Huntsmen,’ he began. ‘Though the Special Operatives have had the same training as any other graduate from Atlas, they’re still soldiers. They follow protocol, obey orders without question, and they have little leeway in how they conduct their missions. Huntsmen live in a completely different world. So long as they accomplish the mission, they can do whatever they want. They can go directly to where they are needed, or they can take the scenic route. They can mingle in the little towns, or go unseen by all but the client. They can take sentient lives, or spare them. Ultimately, these differences are because of the worlds that created these two institutions. Specialists—militaries—are representations of war; while the Huntsmen are a result of the peace we all work so hard to protect. Huntsmen are supposed to protect the populace, and a lot of them think in ways that better allow them to do so.  It’s a lifestyle that offers a lot of freedom, but it’s also one that carries a lot of responsibility.’

‘So...does that mean I was wrong?’ Penny asked anxiously. ‘I didn’t kill him, but Ruby still seemed a little upset even after his arrest. She probably thinks I’m some depraved killer now.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ he reassured her. ‘From what I know of her myself, and from what you’ve told me, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to hold a misunderstanding against you, because that’s what it seems like to me. If I were in your position, I’d talk to her, try to explain my motivations, and make sure we both knew where the other was coming from. Friends have disagreements all the time: they fight, they reason it out, they forgive, and then they learn. You have to trust me when I tell you this won’t be the end of your friendship, so long as you put in the work to keep it strong.’

Penny blinked as she processed his words; not an intuitive process like for an ordinary human, but an analysis that decoded the ideas and meanings behind them, compared them to past experiences and used the results to compile suggestions for further action, all in the space of roughly five seconds. Pleased with her conclusions, Penny began to smile slightly, and that took an ounce of burden off Ironwood’s shoulders. He knew she’d be fine, of course. He already knew that a spat like this could be quickly solved because he already understood how important those to girls were to each other. Important enough for Wilt to name her daughter after her.

‘I will keep that in mind,’ she answered dutifully. Her smile dulled, and she scratched at her head absentmindedly. ‘But that doesn’t solve my problem with Weiss.’

‘Tell me more,’ Ironwood invited. ‘What do you think you did to upset her?’

‘Well,’ Penny started sheepishly. ‘She was a little crabbier after I asked her if she was homosexual.’ The general smiled wryly.

‘Not the kind of question you ask over a cup of coffee,’ he warned gently. As he gave his advice on that particular matter, he would have given anything to see the look on Jacques’ face if he were here.

 

* * *

 

Cinder found it to be a tranquil journey, for the roar of the speedboat’s engine and the rush of the waves could not drown out her own thoughts.

Night had fallen, and their mobile dirigible cut through the seas like a shark unseen. The only light to be seen came from the starlit skies and the lamp at the bow of the boat, creating a cone of gold in the inky sea. Cinder sat down with her hand on the ignition of the boat while Tyrian perched himself at the head using his Faunus night vision to guide their way, occasionally dipping his hands and tail into the salt water to wash away the blood from his negotiation. Looking back at the shrinking mainland, Cinder could still see the pulsing, luminous heart of the tower, a winking, emerald star that acted just as its namesake. Not for much longer...

The relative silence was broken by the squawk of a radio. Tyrian craned his neck back, gesturing towards the rapidly beeping Scroll clipped to her belt.

‘I believe our host wants to speak with his guests,’ he informed her, turning back to keep his golden eyes on the tiny islet that grew clearer even in the night. Cinder put on practiced smile, and opened the Scroll as if the voice on the other end was sat right in front of her.

‘It’s always such a pain to take down the jamming signal,’ an exhausted, patient voice complained in Cinder’s ear, ‘so why don’t we get down to business? I won’t ask who you are or why you’re sailing in this direction, but these waters are private property and I’m not in the mood to entertain guests.’

‘Surely we can make an exception?’ Cinder asked pleasantly. ‘Call me an avid follower of your research. I took the effort of locating you in order to bring you a mutually beneficial proposition.’

‘I’d rather not,’ the voice refused. ‘In fact, I’d rather you turned around right now. I can continue my work uninterrupted, and you can avoid dying. How’s that for mutual benefit?’

‘I implore you to reconsider,’ Cinder responded calmly, her eyes glowing in the night. ‘After all, this is a matter of sisterly importance.’ Tyrian had wondered when she was going to say those words. Members of the Shrouded Sorority identified one another and their spies by wishing to discuss “matters of sisterly importance.” Cinder’s move was not without risk, as the code was also known to traitors and certain specialised authorities, and speaking it closed as many doors as it opened. Her conversational partner remained silent for some time. Cinder remained perfectly still while Tyrian stayed his course and kept his eyes on the approaching island, pretending not to notice as she held her breath. Finally, Cinder heard a sigh from her Scroll.

‘Fine,’ the voice relented. ‘What do you people want this time?’

‘We can discuss that once we’re ashore,’ she promised, smirking as her confidence grew.

Minutes later, the boat slid gently onto marshy wet sand, surrounded by natural walls of red rock. Cinder gingerly stepped onto a relatively solid part of the beach while Tyrian tethered the boat to a nearby beam of wood driven into a pile of stones, and then he spied a mountain path at the top of the beach, leading into a deep canyon. Wasting no time, they trekked on the windswept trail, the Faunus in front, and in the shadows the heard the snarls of something that found the darkness more than comfortable. They had nothing to fear. For as long as they existed, the creatures of Grimm had always known their place.

‘It’s been some time since I heard you use that code,’ Tyrian said suddenly, breaking Cinder from her musings. ‘And longer since you even mentioned the Sorority.’

‘It’s like you said,’ Cinder found herself saying. ‘Though their operations don’t lack scope, their ambition does. They always philosophise and preach about their designs for the future of Remnant, but I’m putting them into action. If it is a sister that did this, then she probably resents that my insight is even more valuable than that of our hierophant.’

‘Either that,’ Tyrian responded, ‘or she resents that you killed the previous hierophant.’

‘Plenty have tried,’ she observed bitterly. ‘I was the only one she ever turned her back on.’

‘Though I’m sure you had your reasons, you must still have greatly shocked them,’ Tyrian chuckled, leering in delight. ‘An orphan rescued from slavery repays the charity given to her by murdering her foster mother and siblings in a dance of fire. A performance that warranted Our Lady’s attention, to be sure.’

‘Cerise Lierre never rescued anyone,’ Cinder hissed, holding a shaking fist against her hip so that she wouldn’t summon a blade and run him through. ‘She did not rescue me, she _bought_ me. I still bear the scars from her “charity.”’ Tyrian made no response, simply holding her head up with a tranquil, contented smirk, causing glowing heat to radiate from her eyes. She knew this was the kind of the thing he did. She knew he loved nothing more than to sink his fangs into sensitive, scarred flesh and hear his victims scream, verbally or otherwise. She had known it for years and yet she still rose to his bait, and now she risked losing control of her situation altogether. Oh, she was looking forward to the day Salem no longer needed him.

‘And speaking of mothers and siblings,’ he spoke up once again. ‘Ever consider seeking out your _real_ family?’

‘Like you had to ask, Tyrian,’ Cinder smiled as nauseatingly and as saccharinely as she could. ‘We are brothers and sisters in service of our Goddess. We are the only family we need.’

‘A fine answer,’ he cheered, arms splayed in a great show of devotion, his tail twitching with euphoria. ‘A very fine answer!’ Tyrian began to laugh, and Cinder smirked inwardly. She had aroused one of those moods in him, and now his question was long forgotten. She knew the names and faces of her lost biological relatives, and had known for a few years now, thanks to the Sorority’s vast network of informants. She never contacted them, nor would she ever, not unless she could use them to further her goals; they were only strangers, their shared genes being nothing more than a curiosity to her. But Tyrian didn’t need to know any of that. If she could keep that one thing hidden from him, then she could tell herself she was still in control.

Long after Tyrian had finally calmed down, they came upon a square of steel carved into the mountainside. They stood together, carefully approaching the heavy door as it began to slide open. Three figures stepped out to greet them. To the left and right were two mountains of crimson armour plating, carrying halberds sizzling with energy: heavy-duty security drones, extensively customised. The much smaller figure in the centre was what interested the two visitors. His dour face was decorated with a shock of white hair, his blunt chin hidden in well groomed beard, but what caught Cinder’s attention most was the false eye, glowing like a lit coal.

‘So you came to meet us,’ she greeted. ‘I finally get to meet the esteemed Doctor Merlot.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slower chapter today, though still a long one. I think I've come across that phenomenon where you only intend for an OC to have two or three lines, but then you have too much fun writing said lines, and then it kind of gets out of control. It also helps if you imagine him with the voice of Peter Serafinowicz.
> 
> Also, I'm thinking going to do a bit of rejigging to my original synopsis, since I realised that my current plan isn't really matching up with the flow of the story or my writing style. Other than that, you can content yourself with some Bee Feels and some Cinder backstory that I fully expect to be AU. Other than that. I'll see you later.
> 
> Colour Glossary   
> Cephas Rauta: Cephas is Aramaic for "rock." Rauta is Finnish for "iron."  
> Cerise Lierre: Cerise and Lierre are French for "cherry" and "ivy."

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another "Ruby goes back in time to stop everything from going to shit" fic. With my thirst for Volume 4 at an all-time high and my motivation to write my Persona/Madoka fic at an all-time low, I wound up squeezing this thing out of my orifices. 
> 
> After reading more over the summer (namely the Eisenhorn trilogy and the Ravenor trilogy by Dan Abnett, and The Last Wish by Andrjez Sapkowski), I felt like producing a darker, action-driven RWBY piece. The idea came from a pattern I had noticed in the various Remnant's Reclaimer copycats. These Future!Rubies were all twenty-somethings who fought a short but disastrous war, whose personalities were basically Ruby but tougher. I happened upon the idea of a Future!Ruby who was much older than the others, who had been killing longer than Present!Ruby had been alive, who feels an ever greater detachment from the present versions of RWBY/JNPR, and is a little more like Qrow than Present!Ruby (though still recognisably Ruby.) The final result will (hopefully) be a tragic, complex plot that showcases just how dangerous a Huntress who survives to middle age can be.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I finally happened upon the idea of using Ctrl+V directly onto the Rich Text Editor. Now my text doesn't look like anus. Yey.
> 
> If you enjoyed the read, leave a comment and a Kudos, and I'll see you guys later.


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